Heed the Siren's Call
by Miss Mungoe
Summary: Rumour has it he's got a girl in every port, but truth is there was only ever just the one. – Shanks/Makino, set before the start of One Piece.
1. the prelude, the crisp smell of paper

AN: Set before the start of One Piece. Shanks/Makino, because Shanks is too awesome not to have a lady waiting for him somewhere, and because I am an avid supporter of this kind of romance. This is for everyone who spent their teenage years losing themselves to the pages of novels, closet adventuring and secretly wishing they were off somewhere, kicking ass or falling in love. Keep in mind that the story makes a not-so-subtle jab at the typical romance novel. With that said, I hope you like it!

Disclaimer: One Piece belongs to Eichiiro Oda. 'Clandestine Courtships' however, is a purposefully cliché product of my own, strange mind, made for this particular piece of fiction.

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******Heed the Siren's Call**

******by Miss Mungoe**

******Chapter I**

"___Your beauty is one to be envied, dearest Sara. Do not let anyone tell you differently."_

___The voice spoke softly in her ear, as genuine as always, sending shivers up her spine despite her anger. She spun around to face him, skirts whirling about her legs in a flurry of fabric. Her blue eyes searched his handsome face._

"___More empty words. I cannot – will not – hear them!" Her voice was level, but the tears brimming behind her eyes betrayed the turmoil raging within her, threatening to burst._

___His dark eyes softened, and he took a step towards her, hands reaching out for hers. She faltered in her step as she staggered back, tugging her hands away and clenching them tightly against her sides. "I...will not–" she repeated, her voice hitching in her throat, her vision blurring. He was quick to grasp her elusive hands, enclosing them tightly within his larger ones; his thumbs stroked her knuckles gently._

"___I have caused you distress, and for that, I apologize," he murmured softly. She shook her head._

"___Why? Why must you leave me?"_

___His hand reached up to cup her cheek, turning her head to look at him. "I am a wanted man; you know this. Remaining here puts you in danger as well, and I could not bare it if anything were to happen to you."_

___She turned her face away, closing her eyes to stop the tears from falling. Her voice was hoarse when she spoke,_

"___And will you not come back for me?" She turned her face back to look up at him through her tears. He leaned closer, enveloping her in his strong arms. His sigh fanned her cheeks._

"___I cannot. My life is not for you, as much as I wish it were."_

___The tears were running now, pouring down her cheeks in rivulets, gleaming silver in the moonlight. He reached to wipe them away, a solemn smile on his face._

"___You must continue your life as you should; find a man who can take good care of you, treat you well – who can give you the children and the peace you desire," he said, and she could not stop the sob from escaping her throat._

"___Is that truly what you want?" she asked. He-_

"_****__**MAKINO!"**_

The worn book dropped from her hands as she all but jumped out of her skin, yelping in surprise, and for a split second she was at a complete loss of where she was. In fact, the only thing she could seem to discern was a coarse voice calling her name in the distance...

"___Makino! _Where are you, you foolish girl?!"

Blinking, the young girl's gaze settled on the distant horizon, and the sun's position in the sky, eyes widening almost comically as she realized what time it was.

"Shoot!"

She was late.

___Really_ late.

Gathering her skirts, Makino climbed to her feet, hissing through her teeth as her knees nearly buckled beneath her. Sometime during her girlish fantasizing, her legs must have fallen asleep, and she wobbled a bit in her attempt to stand up. Clenching her jaw, she pushed away from the tree she had been seated under and all but stumbled down the path towards the village, muttering under her breath as she went,

"Shoot, shoot, shoot, double shoot! She's going to tan my hide for this!"

Not three paces into her run, however, she skidded to a halt, backtracking hastily to pick up the novel she had been so previously engrossed in and had dropped in her hurry. Dusting it off and tucking it in the pocket of her apron, she picked up her pace despite knowing she was as good as done for anyway. A few seconds more or less meant nothing when the Mistress got her hands on her, but that didn't mean she needed to dawdle!

Slipping beneath the old fence at the entrance to the village, Makino greeted a local fisherman on his way to the docks, fighting down a blush at his laughing remark that the old gal was in a fine frenzy, and that he was glad he wasn't in her shoes. Hoisting her skirts higher, she sprinted the last few feet, so by the time she reached the tavern, she was completely out of breath.

And by the look on the face of the Mistress, in for one hell of a scolding.

The elderly woman had her arms crossed over her chest – which was never a good sign, in Makino's experience – and her hawk-like eyes were narrowed in an unbecoming glare as she took in the sight of her flustered ward. Makino fidgeted under the scrutiny of those eyes, and nervously tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, smiling sheepishly.

"Here I am?"

The Mistress didn't say anything to that, but her eyes settled pointedly on the lump in Makino's skirts, knowing perfectly well what she'd been up to, and Makino felt her heart drop to her stomach.

"Give it to me."

The command was simple, stark, and left no room for argument. Makino sighed dejectedly, reaching down to retrieve the hidden item and handing it over reluctantly. The Mistress gave the cover a quick glance – a distinctly ___disdainful_ glance that spoke volumes of what she thought about it – before scoffing and turning her sharp eyes on her ward.

"The floors need cleaning and the glasses another polish before I open the bar tonight," she said simply, before turning sharply on her heel and disappearing inside the tavern. Makino clenched her hands against her sides, biting down on her lip from pointing out that she had polished the glasses only this morning; knowing it was punishment for spending her time 'dallying in unrealistic fantasies whose only purpose was to put silly ideas into the minds of young women'. Inhaling deeply through her nose, she trudged dejectedly after her patron, not five minutes without it but already longing for the pages of her novels.

Those 'unrealistic fantasies' sure were a lot more entertaining that what went on in the real world,she mused as she lugged the wooden bucked across the common room, before turning to retrieve the mop.

She'd always been fond of reading novels – ___romantic_ novels, in particular. Books that told tales of handsome men with swords and long coats that fluttered in the wind; who rode into the lives of the protagonists on white steeds – or sailed in on grand merchant ships. The main characters were always beautiful – sometimes ladies of a court, other times simple village girls longing for someone to sweep them off their feet and take them into the sunset. But lady or village wench, their stunning beauty always caught the eye of the roguishly handsome main male character.

Makino sighed, leaning on her mop as her eyes swept across the interior of the small tavern. Party's Bar had been in Mistress Emiko's family for generations, and the idea was that one day Makino would be the one to take responsibility for it. Not that she had ever been asked, mind you, but there was little she could do in a village like Fuschia without a proper education or the guts to take to the seas by herself. Not to mention her sense of obligation that would never have allowed her to leave even if she could. So the bar was, in essence, her future.

As was the mop in her hands and the bucket by her feet.

A true tavern wench in the making, she thought sourly, giving the bucket a small kick. Just like Sara in Clandestine Courtships, only she wasn't going to be swept off her feet by a rich and handsome pirat-

"The floors aren't going to mop themselves, girl."

The grouchy old voice broke her out of her thoughts, and Makino realized she had completely stilled in her ministrations. Sighing for what felt like the umpteenth time she resumed her work, wondering briefly if a man would come sauntering into the tavern to take ___her_ with him for once, but quickly throwing the idea away. It was a silly thought. Silly and romantic and utterly unrealistic. She was hardly as beautiful as the girls in her novels, for one. A girl-child barely having passed her sixteenth year, and much too pale to have lived in a seaside port her entire life. She hadn't even grown into her own skin yet – all skinny arms and gangly legs; not at all like the slim and curvaceous young women she read about in her novels. So no handsome man would be coming for her any time soon, tavern wench or not, no sir-ee. Because this was the real world – this was ___Fuschia, _for heaven's sake! – and such things just did not happen here in the furthest reaches of the East Blue.

Yet they had once, though. Hadn't they?

Her eyes drifted to the Mistress, lingering behind the bar as she absent-mindedly went over inventory. To Makino's limited knowledge, Mistress Emiko had never married, hence having no children but herself to hand the tavern to when she retired. Whispers in the village said she'd had her heart broken by a pirate once, long before Makino was even born, and that it had left her scarred and bitter, and vowing never to fall for the passing fancy any man ever again. Others painted a more romantic picture, saying she was still waiting for that pirate – that she had given her heart to him and him alone, and that she was still in love with him after all these years.

And a hopeless romantic to heart, Makino preferred the latter version. It would certainly explain why the elderly woman spent so much time gazing out across the ocean, as though looking for something. Eyes forever searching the horizon. For a ship perhaps?

She snorted at her own thoughts. It was certainly romantic. A bit ___too_ romantic, perhaps, for such a bitter old woman.

Yet as she watched her protector since childhood – the weary frown on her ageing face that never really went away, and the coldness in her sharp, blue eyes – Makino felt a twinge of guilt in the pit of her stomach. The Mistress' story – if it were as the village rumours went – was like a tale right out of one of her favourite novels. A woman left by the man she loved, and doomed to never love again. It was heartbreaking, and if it were true, it would certainly explain the old crone's contempt for the 'ridiculous fancies' Makino so indulged herself in – romantic novels that portrayed stories just like hers.

So perhaps it wasn't too romantic, after all.

And as she watched from across the room, mop absent-mindedly sweeping the same spot over and over, Makino could not help but wonder if the woman standing behind the counter would someday be herself. If one day, years from now, ___she_ would be the one checking inventory, idly wiping her glasses and longing for a man long gone and knowing she would never have another, with no children to care for and no husband to grow old with. An old, grumpy tavern wench whose sad tale was common knowledge by everyone in Fuschia, and every sailor and merchant who came to visit their little village.

And the one mothers pointed to as they warned their silly, young daughters of the dangers of falling for the wrong me–

"What are you looking at, girl?"

Startled out of her daydreaming, Makino averted her eyes, picking up her mopping as she cleared her throat. "N-nothing. I was...just lost in thought for a moment."

The older woman sniffed indignantly, adjusting her apron. "Well, that's what you get from reading those foolish stories. Keep your head in the clouds any longer, soon you won't be able to tell what's real and what's not."

Makino kept her gaze on her mopping, biting her lip in shame for being caught staring. Maybe she was right.

Or maybe she was speaking from experience.

"Mistress," she began tentatively, her curiosity getting the better of her, as always.

"What?"

Makino inhaled deeply. "Why do you think them so...so foolish? Have you ever tried reading one?"

She half-expected to get her ears boxed for such a question, but what she got in stead took her by surprise. Emiko laughed – a chortle, short and stark, yet a sound Makino had not heard from the woman in ___years_.

Emiko shook her head, a solemn smile on her wrinkled face. "Why remind oneself of the pains of the past?" she asked softly – to herself or to Makino, it was hard to tell. At any rate, the words were the closest thing Makino could remember of her patron speaking openly about her life. Whenever she'd asked as a child, all she had gotten had been a a scoff and a 'mind your own business', before she was sent off with extra chores and a smarting ear.

"Did...something happen?" she heard herself asking, despite the voice in her head reminding her of what usually happened to those unfortunate fools who pushed Mistress Emiko too far. She silenced it viciously; this was a chance she might never have again, and if she were punished for sticking her nose where it did not belong, it would be worth it for even a tiny piece of information. Her over-active imagination could handle it from there.

Emiko did not appear to have heard her, though, and now really did seem to be talking to herself.

"He was a fine man," she murmured. "Handsome as they came, and with a good heart." Sharp eyes stared out across the empty bar, as if seeing things Makino could not.

"I was helpless to those charms," she continued, snorting softly. "All the girls were, but for some reason..." She smiled to herself, and Makino didn't know whether to feel sympathetic or scared out of her wits. The Mistress never smiled, and certainly not like ___that_.

Abruptly, though, she stopped speaking, as though having been awoken from a dream. The harsh light returned to her eyes as a familiar scowl settled on her face, leaving little evidence of the woman of two seconds ago. Turning to her ward, she sniffed.

"You'll be running this joint one day," she stated. "So don't be a damn fool. Get married early, and have more than one kid, so if one of them goes out to sea to get themselves killed, you'll still have someone to take over the tavern when you retire."

Dusting off her apron, she scoffed disdainfully, before giving Makino another sharp look. "Stories worth writing novels about are rarely worth living, Makino. Remember that. You only have this one life, so live wisely."

And then she turned to the stairs leading to her apartments above the bar, removing her apron and dropping it on the countertop. Makino watched her go with a sense of melancholy, but it was quickly swallowed by surprise when the older woman placed her novel down beside the discarded apron. She blinked. Emiko was giving it back? She ___never_ gave her novels back. As far as she knew, she used them as firewood during the winter months.

Eyes lingering on the worn cover of the novel, Emiko snorted softly, before turning towards the stairs. "Don't give your heart to a man who'll never return, girl. It's foolish, and you're smarter than that."

And with that said, she was gone, leaving Makino alone in the tavern, the mop in her hands long forgotten as she stared after the retreating form of her guardian.

It was only when the sun had gone down and the tavern had been opened for business that Makino was able to sneak off to continue her readings. Although the future patron of Party's Bar, she was far from old enough to be present during its opening hours, even as a serving girl, and Emiko had been strict on that since the beginning. She had no immediate plans of actually letting her have a hand at serving until she'd reached an appropriate age.

Climbing out of her bedroom window with practised ease, a thick shawl wrapped around her shoulders and a lit lantern dangling from her arm, Makino quietly made her way from the bar and towards her favourite spot at the hillside on the outskirts of the village. The chorusing laughter and boisterous singing vanished behind her in the still night, until the tavern was but a glowing spot amongst the many sleeping houses of Fuschia, and the peace and quiet of the chilly summer evening enveloped her with welcoming arms.

Placing the lantern down on the ground, she settled comfortably beneath the large tree, her back to the thick trunk. She wrapped her shawl tighter around herself, opening the book to where she had left off, her excitement barely contained as she searched the page from where she'd been interrupted.

"___Is that truly what you want?" she asked. His smile was solemn._

"___Any man you choose, I will loathe, for he will not be me. Yet if he makes you smile – if he gives you the life you so deserve – I will love him as a brother, for he has done what I cannot."_

___She shook her head vigorously. "There will be no other! Never will I love a man if he is not __****__**you**____," she swore, grasping his hands in hers._

___He shook his head. "You must, dearest Sara. For my return is unlikely."_

___Her shoulders shook, yet she steeled herself, a defiant glint in her eyes; blue as ice in the soft moonlight. "I will wait for you," she promised fiercely._

"___Sara-"_

"___I will wait!" She was resolute, her shoulders squared to punctuate her words. "I will wait, for I will never have anyone else."_

___He did not speak, only looked at her for a long time, before finally leaning close to place a kiss to her forehead._

"___I cannot make your decisions for you, but I plead with you, my love, to forget about me. Do not waste your life waiting for a dead man." The words were soft whispers against her forehead, and she fought her shaking knees from giving out on her._

___Then he was turning away from her, the warmth of his body gone, leaving her hollow as the breeze from the sea cut through her like a knife. His form was rigid as he walked the path down to his ship, and his shape became unclear and blurred as tears obscured her vision._

___Falling to her knees, she could not stop the sobs anymore. Like a tidal wave washing over her, sucking the air out of her lungs..._

A drop of water fell on the page, blurring the inked letters, and Makino was startled out of her reverie. Bringing a hand to her eyes, she realized with another start that she was crying, and that the page she had been reading was damp with tears. She shook her head at the sight, yet in stead of wiping the tears away, she did not move an inch; allowing them to fall. No sobs racked her body – and no hiccups or wails escaped her lips. There were only tears.

And as she sat there under her special tree, noiselessly shedding her tears, she wondered briefly who they were for. Sara...or Emiko?

"___Don't give your heart to a man who'll never return, girl. You're smarter than that."_

Inhaling deeply through her nose, Makino snapped the book shut, steeling herself as she blinked her eyes free of the salty substance blurring her vision. Looking down on the cover, she frowned as she turned it over in her hands. It was an old novel – she'd procured it from a passing merchant a few weeks prior, without Emiko's knowledge. In truth, books were what she spent most of her money on, and if she couldn't find any she liked in the village, she would wait for the merchant ships, or ask specifically for someone headed out to sea to bring one or two back with them. She'd been overjoyed when she'd found her newest one, although it had cost more than she'd been entirely comfortable with. And she'd loved it. She'd loved all three hundred and forty three pages, and read it with care and precision, afraid to miss even the smallest detail. She'd loved it.

Until now.

Leaning her head back against the trunk of the tree, Makino allowed her gaze to drift across the dark ocean. There were no ships to be seen, although that was a rarity even during the day, and Makino wondered briefly what it was like, constantly on the lookout for sails on the horizon, barely daring to hope but unable to do anything else.

Shaking her head, she wiped at her eyes roughly, before picking herself off the ground and starting the trek back down to the village. She wasn't going to sit there weeping like a child. She adored her novels, and her imagination had a tendency to run away with her on the best of days, but she would take Emiko's advice to heart. Future tavern wench or not, she would ___not_ become victim to her own fantasies.

Because she was smarter than that.

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AN: Smart or not – love makes fools of the best of us. Please leave a review and let me know what you think!


	2. grief, like ink that stains the page

AN: Four years into the future, things are no longer what they used to be.

Disclaimer: One Piece belongs to Eichiiro Oda.

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**Chapter II **

Even during its closing hours, Makino could not remember Party's Bar ever being _this_ empty.

Stepping into the center of the common room, footsteps echoing hollowly throughout the usually lively establishment, she didn't feel at all like the responsible adult she was supposed to be. In fact, she felt very much like a child – very, very small and trespassing on property that wasn't hers to thread on. It was familiar feeling from the countless times Emiko had caught her sneaking into the bar during its opening hours, and had boxed her ears and sent her back to bed with a promise of extra chores and another boxing if she came back down. Although now the thrill was completely gone, leaving her with only the fear and uncertainty. The walls seemed further apart, somehow – the tables and chairs impossibly large, and the counter as tall as a mountain, looming ominously in the distance.

Party's Bar – or the empty common room she was standing in – was nothing like the one she had grown up running in and out of, dirty shoes on her feet and always a new book in her hands. It was like it had lost its spirit; a shell of what it had been. Barely that, even. It was...empty, not only physically, but figuratively, too. _Hollow._ She let her fingers trace absentmindedly across the nearest table, grimacing at the layer of dust that had already settled there.

Her patron's passing less than a week before had been abrupt and unexpected, and had caught them all off guard; Makino most of all. Although looking back on things, it was clear the old woman had grown uncommonly tired these past few years – of living or of waiting, Makino didn't know. Perhaps a combination of both. In the end it had simply been too much. She remembered that particular day a little too well. When Emiko hadn't been present when she awoke, preparing breakfast as usual and muttering about the late hour of her ward's waking, and that perhaps she would've been up earlier if she hadn't spent all her nightly hours reading those silly books_, _Makino had gone to look for her. She hadn't been outside or anywhere in the village, and it had been well past noon when she'd finally found her. She'd been in bed, pale and sallow and so unlike the fierce woman that had raised her from infancy, Makino had had trouble believing her own eyes.

"_Mistress!" _

_Makino rushed towards the bed where the older woman lay, falling to her knees as her hands reached for her forehead and neck, fumbling as she checked for a temperature, a pulse – anything. In all her years, she could not once remember her guardian being sick – not even with a simple cold – yet now she looked as though she had aged ten years overnight, and there was a tired glint in her sharp eyes that spoke of a sickness that ran deeper than the one visible to the eye. _

"_My girl." The hoarse voice, lacking its usual snap, brought her out of her reverie. Emiko was looking at her – eyes sharp even now, yet glassy and bloodshot. Makino grasped her hand in hers, flinching at the coldness of her skin. _

"_Mistress, I-" _

"_Tell him..." she began, interrupting her. "Tell him...I'm sorry I couldn't stay here...any longer...but that...I'm still...I'm still waiting." She smiled – a tired smile, yet the most genuine smile Makino had ever seen on her patron's face. Her mouth moved to speak, but she couldn't get any words out. Her throat constricted painfully, and she felt her eyes sting. _

"_M-Mistress-" She cut herself off abruptly, her breath hitching in her throat as her guardian's hand went still in hers. _

"_Mistress? Mistress Emiko!" _

Makino clenched her eyes shut, feeling tears pricking at the backs of her lids and reminding herself that had she been alive, Emiko would have boxed her ears for being so emotional about her death. The thought, though morbid, seemed to still the urge and brought a wry smile to her face, and for a split second she could almost hear the older woman's voice, bouncing shrilly off the walls of the tavern.

"_I don't want any tears over my passing, you hear me? This place doesn't need a emotionally weak girl-child running it. Get over yourself!" _

I know, Makino thought, taking a deep breath. "You raised me better than that," she whispered.

Opening her eyes – thankfully dry, for once – she allowed her gaze to sweep across the interior of the bar. _Her_ bar, now, after the late woman's will. Empty, save for Makino herself. And that was the way it would be from now on. No longer would she have her Mistress to name her chores and remind her when she was slipping off into one of her daydreams. She was her own boss now, and the future of Party's Bar depended solely on her capability to run it properly.

And that was exactly what she was going to do.

Walking over to the nearest table, Makino began studiously lifting the chairs from their perches and placing them down, reminding herself to find a cloth to wipe the tabletops when she was done. The bar had been closed for a few days after Emiko's passing, as a sign of respect for the old woman and also for Makino to get adjusted to her new situation, but it was well past time for it to be open for business. Emiko would have been downright outraged at the mere thought that the bar had been out of business in the first place, death or no death, and had she been alive, Makino was sure the entire town would have heard _exactly_ what she thought about it, and exactly how money had gone to waste in those days.

She smiled to herself as she continued her ministrations. It would be her first time handling the bar on her own tonight, and she was determined to do a good job, if not for Emiko's sake, then to prove to the villagers that she was more than capable of running the bar on her own. There had been whispers during the funeral and in the days following, about the next legal owner of Party's, and mumbled comments about how the late owner of the establishment should have chosen someone with a few more years on their backs, and who didn't go around with their head in the clouds and their nose in a book. Makino huffed to herself at the memory, mumbling under her breath, "At least _I_ know how to _read."_

Something that couldn't be said for everyone in Fuschia.

She wrinkled her nose at the thought. There wouldn't be much time for reading now, at least not until she had gotten her life back in order. It saddened her greatly, this sudden turn of events. Mistress Emiko would not be there to support her, as she had always imagined. There would be no steady hand on her shoulder, guiding her in the right direction, nor a firm yet kind voice telling her she was doing a good job, that she lived up to the expectations set for her. She could no longer escape to the safety of her novels whenever the going got tough, either. No. She was an adult now, if not in years then because of the responsibility on her shoulders, and she needed to start focusing on her own life, rather than the lives of fictional characters, however more interesting _those_ were.

A knock on the wall, which was more like a pound – and what sounded like wood cracking under great pressure – snapped her out of her thoughts, and she dropped the chair she had been holding in surprise as she spun towards the bat-wing doors of the tavern. As she caught sight of the source of the noise, however, her eyes softened, and an amused smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

Garp had sense enough to look ashamed for putting another crack in her wall, and he mumbled an apology under his breath as he entered the common room. Makino smiled.

"Garp-san. It's good to see you again." And it was, too. The kind albeit strange man had been a source of both great amusement and comfort in her life ever since she was little. He was an old friend of Emiko's, and stopped by Fuschia whenever he could to visit his grandson.

"Ah, Makino," he greeted with a wide grin; a sight that usually scared people out of their wits, but Makino had nothing but pleasant memories of Monkey D. Garp, and found the grin no more intimidating than the man sporting it. And it was a nice change from the depressed and sympathetic expressions that was on every villager's face these days. She'd had enough of _those_ to last her a lifetime.

"Makino!" The aforementioned grandson peeked out from behind the legs of the tall Marine, and she felt a fond smile bloom on her face. At the age of six, the boy had infinitely more energy than any child she had ever met, and possessed a sunny disposition that never failed to brighten her day, no matter how dreary.

"Well, hello to you, too, Luffy," she greeted warmly, before turning her attention back to Garp. "Would you like something to drink?" she asked them as she moved towards the bar, Luffy scampering at her heels to climb up onto one of the empty stools.

Garp shook his head, but motioned to Luffy. "The kid'll probably want some juice, though," he muttered. Makino nodded, and bent to retrieve a glass.

"So," Garp began as he, too, seated himself. "How're you holding up these days?"

She handed the glass to Luffy, who eagerly chugged it down, handing it back so she could refill it. "Fine, all things considered," she said with a smile and a sigh as she repeated the action. "It's going to be hell the first few weeks, though."

Garp raised a bushy brow at that, and she smirked. "I'm a barmaid now, Garp-san. The language comes with the job," she teased, only half-joking. She'd entertained the thought, if only out of respect to her foul mouthed patron. Besides, it'd give the place a little more character than if she remained a mousy, quiet girl with little to say at all.

He scoffed, but the smirk on his face betrayed his distaste. "Emiko's taught you well," he remarked with a shake of his head. "Too well. And you who were such a sweet, polite child. Unlike this one," he quipped, pulling on the ear of his grandson, who gave a short yelp, followed by a sharp protest, "who doesn't seem to know how to follow even the simplest orders."

Makino laughed. "Yes, for I was a real gem in my early years," she retorted dryly, raising a brow. "I don't know about you, Garp-san, but I seem to remember more than one time when I was all but dragged by the back of my shirt to do the chores I'd skipped out on. And I've gotten my fair share of boxed ears, I'll have you know," she reminded him.

A snort was her reply. "That may be, but you turned out alright in the end," he said, a smile tugging on his lips as he regarded her for a moment. At length, he spoke, "She'd be proud of you, you know."

She felt a smile tug at her lips. "I know," she murmured, fingers tracing a crack in the wooden counter-top. "I know." A comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the soft slurping-noises from Luffy as he downed his third glass of juice.

"Garp-san..." Makino began, fingers drumming softly on the top of the counter, eyes focused intently on the worn wooded surface.

"Mm?"

She turned her gaze on him, a frown on her face as Emiko's final words echoed in her ears. "You've know Mistress Emiko a long time. I was just wondering...about something she said to me before she..." she trailed off, her lips pursing as she searched for the right words. Garp's brows raised in a silent question. She inhaled deeply, steeling herself.

"Did she...ever tell you about someone important, that she was...waiting for?" she asked, slowly, gauging his reaction.

And as suspected – if she had suspected anything – his brows furrowed, and a sigh escaped him as his eyes averted themselves to the top of the counter, away from hers. "She told you about that, huh? Never thought she would – knowing her," he mumbled. Makino blinked.

"Oh, no. She didn't say anything specific. It's just...she made it clear she was waiting for someone – a man, but that's really all I know," she explained with a shrug of her shoulders. "Everything else is just speculations and rumors."

Garp smirked. "Rumors," he muttered wryly, regarding her closely for a moment. "She really didn't tell you anything?"

She shook her head. "She gave me a message to pass on, but...I don't know to whom."

At that, Garp chortled – a stark, humorless laugh that reminded her of Emiko. "Died thinkin' he'd show up one day, huh? Ah, well. 'Course she did. Stubborn woman," he grumbled. Makino frowned.

"You know who it is, don't you?" she asked, voice tinged with curiosity and a mild hint of accusation.

Garp's smile was almost wistful. "'Knew' is such a strong term. I kicked his ass, once. And then she banned me from the bar for a month."

Makino smiled at that. "You didn't approve?"

He snorted. "Approve? Hell no! Bastard was a bloody _pirate_ – and a bad one, to boot. Foolish woman could have done so much better." His words were tinged with what she recognized as remorse.

"Much better," he murmured.

Even a child could see there was history there, and the hopeless romantic in her was screaming for details, but the look on Garp's face made her refrain from prying any further about _that_ particular subject. She had a feeling he wouldn't want to tell her about it, even if she asked, so she settled for something a little less delicate.

"You don't think he'll come back," she observed.

Garp looked at her, a smirk forming on his bearded face. "I have a feeling that if I say 'no', that imagination of yours is going to twist it around to 'maybe', so I'm not gonna say anything' at all."

She laughed at that, shaking her head. "Just because I read, Garp-san, doesn't mean I don't have a proper grasp of reality," she assured him. "I asked for _your_ opinion, didn't I? I don't know enough facts to make my own, yet."

He sighed, giving her a wry look. "Too damn clever for yer own good, sometimes, I swear..." Makino smiled innocently, and he shook his head.

"Fine. I'm going to tell you the same thing I told Emiko. Pirates ain't saints, and chances are, he had other girls in other ports at the time. I didn't think he was going to come back then, and I don't think he's ever going to come back. I don't even think the bastard's still alive. Lord knows I've tried to track him down more than once. If he's still out there, he's damn good at hiding his thieving ass."

Makino frowned. "You told Emiko this?"

He shrugged. "Got myself a black eye for it, too. Woman always was too damn stubborn."

She raised a brow. "She had faith. Not everyone can say the same in this day and age."

He snorted. "Yeah, but she also had no one but _you_ in the end. Shouldn't be like that, not for a woman like her."

A wistful smile tugged at her lips. "She had _you,_ didn't she?"

He was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke, his eyes seemed strangely distant. "Yeah. I guess she did."

She sensed there was more to that statement, and stored it in the back of her mind for later inspection. She was trying to prove that she didn't have her head in the clouds, and for that to happen, she would have to try to refrain from dallying in her fantasies too much. Novels were one thing; real-life drama was something else entirely. A dangerous territory for young, impressionable girls to dawdle in.

Tearing her eyes away from Garp, Makino turned her attention to Luffy, who seemed to have fallen asleep, sprawled halfway across the counter with the glass still in his hands. She shook her head at the sight, a fond smile on her lips.

"Makino."

Her eyes snapped back to the older man, whose eyes were on the slumbering boy. He didn't look at her as he spoke, "She's probably already told you this, but I'm gonna go ahead and repeat it." She frowned, wondering where he was going, and he continued,

"You're a sweet girl, and you'll no doubt make some man very happy someday," he began, smiling slightly at the sight of the drooling child beside him. He turned his eyes back to hers, and she was startled by the intensity in them.

"Just make sure it's a man who won't ever consider the thought of leaving you. You deserve better than that."

She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it quickly, nodding as her gaze, too, fell on Luffy. She didn't know much about the boy's family. No one did, and Garp was fairly tight-lipped about it. All anyone knew was that Luffy's father had set out to sea before the boy had even been born, and that Garp had been his legal guardian since birth. Even his mother was a mystery, but no one in Fuschia asked questions, and Makino had often wondered if it was because they all knew, but chose to keep it a secret for some reason.

"And make sure the fool doesn't have any sense of adventure in him, either," Garp added with a snort. "Genes, you know. Nasty things. Soon you've got yourself a kid who wants to be the next Pirate King, and I'll be damned if I have to chase him down and have him executed."

Makino laughed at that, shaking her head. "I appreciate your concern, Garp-san. And I promise I'll try to find a man who's indolent, characterless and without a shred of adventure or spontaneity in him," she said with a wry smile, dark eyes twinkling. Garp smirked.

"Atta girl. Now, you wouldn't mind watching the brat for a few days, would you? I've got to head back to Headquarters for some business."

She sighed at that, mildly exasperated, but more than used to Garp's odd and unexpected requests. "You know I can't say no, Garp-san, though your timing couldn't have been worse."

The man rubbed the back of his head apologetically. "Yeah, I know, but I seem to be getting called back more frequently these days. I'm looking to ask Dadan for help, but she's got her hands full already." He had a sheepish grin on his face, looking for all the world like a child having done something naughty, and being perfectly aware of it.

She sighed. "Don't worry; I'll keep an eye on him. He's well-behaved as long as his stomach is full, and I can manage that, I think."

Garp nodded as he rose to his feet, sparing a fond look at his sleeping grandson, before turning his gaze back to Makino, a mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes. "Think of it as practice," he told her.

She laughed at that, her eyes shining as she watched him go. "Yes, for my future lazy and unadventurous children, who _you'll_ be babysitting regularly when you retire, might I add!" she called after him.

Garp guffawed as he exited the tavern, his booming laughter drifting back to her through the the bat-wing doors left swinging in his wake. Turning her gaze to Luffy snoring softly beside her, blissfully unaware of the world around him, Makino maneuvered around the counter to lift the small boy into her arms as she started for the stairs. She would make him something to eat and bring it up to him when he woke. Her first priority was to get the bar up and running.

As she placed him down on a bed in one of the spare bedrooms above the bar, Luffy stirred in his sleep. "Ma-chan?"

She smiled, ruffling his hair. "Get some rest, kiddo. I'm going to open the bar."

He yawned loudly. "Can I come downstairs?"

She considered the idea. "If you promise to stay put, you can come down to eat dinner later. Okay?"

He nodded drowsily, already on his way back to sleep. "Gramps?"

She placed a kiss to his forehead, smiling as she tucked him in. "He'll be back in a few days. Now get some rest."

Leaving the door ajar, she padded softly down the old staircase, tying her apron around her waist as she went. It was past the time Emiko would have usually opened the bar, and she knew some of the villagers were more than eager for a drink or two by now. Getting to work, she wiped the tables and did a quick sweep of the floor, doing a last inventory check before announcing the bar as open for business.

It was only after she had served her first customers, and was fretting over a glass she had accidentally dropped whilst polishing, that the cry reached her ears.

"_**Pirates! Pirates at the docks!"**_

* * *

AN: Comments? Or cookies. I accept both.


	3. the deckled edges of the unexpected

AN: The Red-Haired pirates make their appearance, and Makino is forced to question some of Garp's stories.

Disclaimer: One Piece belongs to Eichiiro Oda.

* * *

**Chapter III **

"_**Pirates! Pirates at the docks!"**_

Her eyes shot open, and in her hurry to rise from her crouch amongst the broken glass on the floor, she bumped her head against the edge of the counter, and a dizzying shudder shot through her half-raised form. Hissing through her teeth, Makino's hand shot up to press against the stinging spot on the crown of her head; her eyes blurred slightly, and she blinked rapidly to adjust her vision.

The four patrons present in the common room were on their feet as well, one having poked his head out of the doors to investigate, the other three looking like they wanted to follow his example – or jump out the nearest window and make a run for it. Makino frowned through her pain, mind running to the possibilities that presented themselves, creating various scenarios, and not one of them with positive outcomes. Her thoughts then went to the little boy sleeping right above her head, and she began to fret nervously, hands itching to get a hold of something – _anything_ – to defend herself. She'd spun around, eyes searching frantically for some kind of makeshift weapon, when the telltale sound of the bat-wing doors being forcibly pushed open reached her ears. She spun back–

Only to find herself alone.

And she didn't know whether to be angry at her customers or afraid for her life, but settled on something in-between as she tried to decide her next course of action. As she was on her own now, she assumed she could forget about relying on anyone protecting her, which meant she would have to solely defend herself and Luffy both. But with what? And against what? Garp often spoke of pirate raids – enough to have made her learn to tune out his ranting – but now she really wished she had paid more attention to his lectures. Where would they go first? What kind of pirates were they? Would any of them have devil fruit powers?

Would any of them make it out of this alive?

Mind reeling with possibilities, she made her decision, but didn't make it two steps towards the stairs before the bat-wing doors swung open again, the raucous sound of laughter swallowing the creaking of the rickety old doors and freezing her in her tracks. Her eyes went to the doorway, wide with fright as she took in the men piling into her tavern. How many, she couldn't say for sure, but it had to be more than a dozen, and she _was_ certain that none of them were villagers. And as they poured into the common room like a dark wave, the afternoon sun at their backs, elongating their shadows and casting the entire room in darkness, Makino found herself backing away, body moving of its own accord. She could hear her heart thundering in her ears, could feel her lungs struggle to suck in air to keep her breathing – but most of all she could feel the wall at her back, the plain expanse of hard wood which promptly refused to allow her to sink into it. Her mind whirled, and in the middle of her frenzied thoughts one in particular stood out, which, at any other time, would have made her laugh.

Not a pirate in_ thirty years_, and they'd chosen her first day of running the bar on her own out of all days to stop by.

Bloody wonderful.

She hadn't realized her eyes had clamped shut, but she found them opening as a voice cut through the din – commanding, yet tinged with amusement and warmth.

"Easy, now! You're scaring the poor girl."

She blinked, brows shooting into her hairline as the source of the voice came into view, stepping around a tall man with a dark ponytail and an amused look on his face. Her eyes traveled up from sandal-clad feet and a cloaked torso, before her finding his face – or rather, his _hair – _and suddenly, she couldn't make herself look away. It was quite possibly the brightest, most ridiculous red she'd ever seen on someone's clothing, let alone someone's _head_, and hidden partially beneath the wide brim of a worn straw hat. The man in question grinned – she caught it clearly, despite the shadows on his face provided by the hat – and he tipped the aforementioned piece of headgear in a startlingly gentleman-like manner, which was when her eyes caught the sight of the scars running across his left eye.

"Good afternoon, Miss! I take it you're the owner. Shanks is the name, and this is my crew. Pleased to meet you!"

…

She couldn't believe her eyes.

She was standing frozen, back pressed up against a wall that would let her go no further, eyes wide as saucers and mouth slightly ajar, scared out of her _wits_ – and undoubtedly looking bloody _ridiculous _as a thousand worst-case scenarios displayed themselves before her mind's eye – and he was _pleased to meet her?_

_What the hell?! _

She thought she could hear a chuckle from somewhere in the group of pirates crowding the doorway, and she felt a strange sort of anger bubble in her chest. It was an anger she recognized from her childhood, when the other girls had mocked her and her reading and called her a silly book-worm, and she'd been so angry, because they shouldn't mock things they knew nothing about. Just as these pirates shouldn't traverse into _her_ tavern, armed and with bounties on their heads that could undoubtedly keep her living comfortably for more than _one_ lifetime, crowding her doorway and making a dirty mess of her _clean_ floors, and then _laughing_ at her for reacting the way she did–!

Huffing, she squared her shoulders. "Can I get you anything, or are you simply going to continue blocking my doorway?"

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, sounding anything but pleasant, and she could swear she saw her life flash before her eyes as Garp's voice thundered in her ears, reminding her rather vividly of the sheer ruthlessness of pirates – that the wrong remark might earn you a sword through the gut or a bullet through the head. And as her eyes took in the sword hanging at the scarred red-head's waist – and the guns and knives carried by pretty much every single man in the group of pirates flanking him – Makino was quite sure she was going to die. Or faint. Or both.

And then the redhead threw his head back and...laughed_. _

The unexpected reaction took her completely by surprise, and had she not been pressed up against the wall as she was, she was quite sure she would have sat smack down on her bottom. His crew laughed with him, and the sound bounced off the walls of the common room. The only one not participating was the tall, silent one, whose only reaction was an amused quirk of the lips.

And as she took in the spectacle before her, Makino didn't know whether to laugh with them or burst into tears.

Finally, the redhead – who she assumed was the captain – brought his gaze back to hers, a grin splitting his scarred face.

"I like you," he announced, before turning to his crew. "It's decided. We're staying!"

And just like that, they began seating themselves about the room, chatting amiably amongst themselves as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, grinning and laughing like they were just normal patrons in a bar on a perfectly ordinary day. Makino took in the sight with wide eyes, mouth hanging open and gaping like a fish, and her previously reeling mind seemed to have gone strangely blank.

"Miss?"

Tearing her eyes away from the bustling tavern, Makino forced them to focus on the man now leaning casually against the counter, and suddenly she felt very, very small, as he was indeed a lot taller than she had first assumed. He cocked his head to the side, dark eyes searching her face.

"Everything alright?" he asked, and she was damned if she heard a tinge of concern in that voice.

She swallowed. _Pirate. He's a pirate. Pirate's don't show concern. Act professional._ "Yes. Everything is fine. Just fine. Can I get you anything?" she repeated, her eyes darting nervously to the crowd behind him. It _had_ been fine with her previous customers – as there had only been _four_ of them – but now there had to be at least two dozen men in her bar. All pirates.

She almost wanted to laugh at the miserable luck she was having.

"Whatever you have will suffice, I believe. We're all tired from a long voyage, and I don't think anyone will care exactly _what_ they drink, as long as it contains enough alcohol," the man spoke, breaking her out of her reverie. She nodded in consent, biting her lip as she turned for the storage. Barrels. She had stocked more barrels in there last week. There _should_ be enough.

She hoped so, at least, but wondered briefly what they would do if it weren't. She could handle _one_ dismayed, male customer. Perhaps even two. Two dozen dismayed pirates_,_ on the other hand...

"So, what's your name?"

The question greeted her as she carried a barrel out of the storeroom, and she blinked in surprise.

"Pardon?"

He smirked. "Your name. I told you mine, now it's only customary that you tell me yours."

She frowned. "Makino," she said at length, as she deposited the barrel beside the one that was already there. The smile never left his face.

"We're making you uneasy." It wasn't a question. She smirked at that.

"Not every day pirates come to visit," she retorted, her eyes darting towards the doorway. No one had entered after the pirates, and she wondered briefly what the other villagers were doing. Probably gone into hiding, the cowards.

The man – Shanks? – seemed to find her uneasiness amusing. "You can relax, you know. My men would never hurt the one who serves them," he assured her.

She chortled. "Oh, I feel _so_ much better now," she said with a shake of her head as she filled a mug, sliding it across the counter before reaching for another. He grinned, nodding his head in thanks as he brought it to his lips. His eyes suddenly darted to the staircase.

"The kid yours?" he asked. Makino blinked in surprise.

He nodded towards the stairs. "The footsteps are too light to be an adult, so I'm assuming it's a child. And since you're the owner of this establishment, it would only be natural for you to live above it."

She was about to open her mouth again when Luffy beat her to it, a surprised yelp escaping him as he appeared at the top of the stairs. His startled eyes met hers, full of questions that would undoubtedly soon come out of his mouth. He had spent a lot of time at the bar in his youth – much like Makino herself – and there had never been more than a handful patrons present whenever he visited. A common-room full of strangers had to set off some warning bells, even in a boy as oblivious as Monkey D. Luffy.

"Ma-chan?"

She was about to head over to usher him back up the stairs, but he was at the bottom in less than a second, eyes wide as saucers as they focused on the straw-hat wearing red-head seated at the bar. He looked to Makino again, then back to the full establishment, and then to the sword hanging at Shanks' waist. His eyes seemed to widen even further, in what she recognized as fascination, tinged with only the barest hint of awed fear.

"Why do you have a sword?"

Shanks grinned. "Why, because every good pirate needs a weapon, and mine is a sword," he explained, giving the hilt a pat. Luffy's mouth dropped open.

"_**You're a pirate?!" **_

Makino sighed. "Luffy-"

"Sure am! The name's Shanks."

The man's easygoing attitude was starting to freak her out, and she needed to get Luffy back upstairs before he got himself into some sort of trouble. As usual. "Come on, Luffy. Go back upstairs, and I'll bring you a plate," she tried to persuade him, but the boy wasn't even looking at her.

"Are you the bad guys? Because Gramps says all pirates are bad guys with no morals. Do you have morals? Where did you come from? Are you going to hurt Ma-chan?" Makino reached for his shirt, but he eluded her grasp, scrambling up onto the stool next to Shanks with speed not natural for a six-year-old. Then again,she thought as she contemplated the possibility of forcibly hauling him back up the all six-year-olds were raised by Garp-san.

Even whilst standing upright on the stool, the boy barely reached Shanks' shoulder, yet it didn't seem to deter him in the least. "'Cause if you are, you better watch out, 'cause I'm gonna protect her!"

Shanks grinned down at the boy glaring up at him, clearly amused. "To answer your questions, kid, we're only bad guys on paper, and we've just arrived from a long voyage. And I certainly hope I still have my morals; it would be a darn shame to have lost them. Hard to find once lost, you know? And as for the girl," and here he shot her a charming smile and a wink, "I'll have you know I don't make a habit of hurting beautiful ladies, and I don't plan to start now." He laughed at the sight of her flushed cheeks, and she felt her brows furrow, yet the rosy tinge didn't lessen, and she felt like ducking behind the bar as the embarrassment threatened to undo her.

"So...you're not the bad guys?"

"Luffy," Makino tried again, wondering how much patience the man possessed, and if he truly was as good-natured as he seemed. Luffy could be a bit of a handful sometimes. "Don't bother the customers." Especially when they're pirates. Pirates with weapons and gods only knew what kind of 'morals'.

Shanks shook his head. "Ah, it's of no consequence, my dear. I like this kid!" He turned his dark gaze on her, flashing her another grin.

"Now, how about those drinks?"

It was well past sundown when she finally managed to wrestle the exited boy – half-asleep, yet still asking questions – up the stairs and into bed. And after checking to make sure he was comfortable – and still _asleep_, so he couldn't sneak back downstairs – she hurried back down to the bar. Amiable or not, the pirates that still littered her tavern made her uncomfortable, and weary of leaving the common-room unattended.

Although, her mind supplied. If they wanted to rob her, what could she possibly do to stop them? And wouldn't they have done so by now, if that was indeed their intention?

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, everything seemed to be as she'd left it, and she breathed a soft sigh of relief at the sight. The redhead was still seated at the bar, laughing at something one of his men had said. Catching sight of her from the corner of his eye, he turned his gaze on Makino, flashing her a grin.

She smiled back uneasily. She'd never met a pirate before in her life, and had grown up with Garp telling her all kinds of stories about their cruelty and lack of scruples. So when such a friendly crew came barging into her tavern and her life, all smiles and jokes and tall tales, Makino didn't know _what_ to think. She wanted to laugh with them – wanted to let herself go more than anything – but Garp's face kept appearing in front of her eyes, reminding her that these were _pirates_. Not sailors or bawdy merchants. Pirates. Criminals.

_Murderers_.

Her nose wrinkled at the last thought. She couldn't picture the flamboyant yet oddly charming redhead as a killer. Although her eyes never strayed far from the sword hanging at his waist, and a voice in the back of her mind kept reminding her that it wasn't there for decorational purposes.

"Makino-san?"

The voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and her gaze was drawn from a spot on the counter she had been scrubbing rather violently. She could feel her cheeks flare with warmth, and averted her eyes from the dark, searching ones regarding her from across the bar-top. Shanks smiled sympathetically.

"Still making you uneasy?" he asked, amusement clear in his voice. Her brows furrowed, and she huffed softly.

"Pardon my state of mind, _Captain_, but I've not been raised to be naive. I'll be uneasy as long as my tavern is full of criminals, and not a moment longer. "

He grinned. "Cute, love, but we go by 'pirates', you know. Any man can be a criminal, but not all criminals can be pirates." She raised a brow at that, and he laughed. "Oh, come now! Don't tell me you still think we're going to rob you?"

She didn't meet his eyes, feeling a bit embarrassed. Shanks chuckled. "Ah, well. What can we do to make amends then, my dear?"

She frowned. "You can start by telling me what you're doing here. Fuschia isn't exactly famous for its riches."

He shrugged. "We weren't really going to stop by, but as I said, it was a long voyage, and we needed a break. Why _not_ here? It's as good a place as anywhere, I'd say, and the alcohol isn't bad."

She regarded him closely for a moment. "How long are you staying, then?"

He laughed at that; a rich sound that made a shiver run up her spine. There was a humorous glint in his dark eyes. "Eager to get rid of us, hmm?"

She felt her resolve crack ever so slightly at the sight of the smile on his face. It was difficult keeping her guard up in the presence of such a smile. And despite herself, she felt her rigid shoulders gradually loosening. She sighed.

"I apologize, Captain...Shanks, was it? It's my first night running the bar on my own, and I'm a little on edge."

He frowned. "And here we waltzed in, making your day worse, huh? Well, I'll be damned if our timing wasn't rotten. Anything we can do to remedy that?" he asked, and the sincerity in his voice surprised her, although she should have learned not to expect anything ordinary out of these people. She shook her head.

"It's quite alright. It's good practice, although I doubt I'll ever have this many patrons at once after this," she said, almost to herself. Shanks grinned.

"Oh? Well then, perhaps we should stop by more often, to keep you on your toes," he teased, and despite herself, Makino found herself smiling back.

"And here I thought pirating was all about adventuring on the great seas, not dallying in backwater ports."

His eyes twinkled mischievously. "Sometimes, my dear, the greatest adventures are found in the most unlikely places."

She raised a brow at that. "Oh, truly? You're welcome to tell me all about this 'adventure' when you find it, then," she said, surprising herself. It really was too easy letting go around this strange man, and it both scared her and intrigued her.

He winked, tipping his hat. "Aye. You've given me a reason to come back now, you know," he said. She smirked.

"Hardly, Captain. I assure you there are greater adventures to be found elsewhere," she said, an almost wistful smile on her face. He cocked his head.

"You sound like you could use one of those," he remarked. She was snapped forcibly out of her thoughts again, and yet another blush crept across her cheeks – how many times was that in the past hour? She'd lost count.

She shook her head. "Only the ones I find in my books, Captain."

"You read, then?"

She nodded. "The only thing that keeps me sane in this place. As I said, it's not known for much other than peace. And melons." He regarded her closely for a moment, a curious look on his face. Makino frowned. "What?"

He shrugged. "Nothing. I was just thinking about something."

She shot him a suspicious look, and he laughed. "Ah, come now, my dear! Smiling becomes you so much more than scowling."

Don't blush. You're not a silly teenager any more, Makino, so for the love of all that is good keep your wits about you!She felt a wry smirk tug at the corner of her mouth. "A charmer, aren't you?"

He grinned. "Guilty as charged. Although I believe it to be one of my better traits. Right, Benny?"

Ben Beckman – or _Benny_, as Shanks insisted on calling him after a few pints – gave his captain a sidelong glance. Makino smiled. She didn't know whether it was because of his silent nature or the wise aura that seemed to surround him, but she found herself having taken an odd liking to the calm and level-headed man.

"Seen in light of your general idiocy, Captain, anything would qualify as one of your 'better' traits," he remarked dryly, and Makino couldn't stop the giggle from escaping her lips. Embarrassed, she covered her mouth with her hand, coughing to mask the smile on her face and turning her attention – or at least enough to keep one eye on the two of them – on wiping the counter-top. Shanks looked mildly scandalized, and a bit petulant.

"Benny! What have I told you about making me look bad in front of beautiful women?"

Ben smirked. "Don't do it while you're within earshot?"

Makino coughed loudly, her shoulders shaking slightly. Shanks grumbled, turning his attention from his first mate to her. "Don't listen to him, Makino-san. He's drunk out of his mind – happens all the time. He's got no idea what he's talking about."

She smiled demurely. "I'm sure he doesn't."

He glared, although it lacked force, and the smile on his face betrayed him. "Taking his side, hmm? They always go for the silent ones, don't they?" he mused.

"Only after meeting _you, _Captain," Ben retorted, not missing a beat, and this time Makino couldn't stop the laughter from bubbling forth. It escaped her lips in elated peals – a clear, tinkling sound, not nearly loud enough to rise above the din of the tavern, but enough to catch the attention of the men seated at the bar.

"Ah, she _does_ laugh!" Shanks grinned. There was elation and amusement in his voice, and Makino hummed in reply, wiping her eyes.

"I'm terribly sorry, Captain. I don't know what came over me." There was no real apology in _her_ tone of voice, and if anything, the grin on her face gave her away. Shanks shrugged.

"Think nothing of it, dear. Ben's a real comedian sometimes," he said dryly, shooting the man a sidelong look. Ben didn't reply, only grinned into his mug as he brought it to his lips.

Makino stifled a sudden yawn, shaking her head as though to rid her mind of the fatigue clinging to it. She had lost track of time hours ago, and for all she knew the sun could be rising up from behind the horizon at any moment. She was more than ready to crawl into bed – she could have fallen asleep at the counter, if given the opportunity – but didn't dare tell a room full of pirates she was closing the tavern for the night...morning? Another yawn threatened to break forth, and she covered her mouth with the back of her hand. She tried to focus her attention on mentally checking the tavern's inventory, and was absentmindedly counting the empty barrels the pirates had gone through and wondering how many were left when Shanks spoke up, pulling her attention from barrels and numbers.

"Getting a bit late, Benny?" he asked, sending his first mate a look. The silent man nodded, turning his head towards the back of the tavern, and the two men seated at a table by the window; one large and burly and holding a piece of meat, and another with curly blonde hair and a sharp look in his eyes. They nodded their consent. Makino frowned at the sight. What were they up to?

Suddenly, Shanks rose to his feet, placing his hands on the counter as he addressed the room, "Alright, men! Enough fun for tonight; we've got a ship that needs repairing and a larder that needs refilling. Time for bed!"

A chorus of "Boss!" answered his command, and then they were all rising to their feet, still laughing and chatting amongst each other as they began piling out of the tavern. Makino stared at the spectacle in disbelief; mouth hanging slightly open as the echoed murmurs and shouts of "Evening, Makino-san!" and "See you again, Miss Makino!" reached her ears. She waved weakly, mind uncomprehending, until they were all gone, and she realized with a start that she was alone with the captain. Shanks smiled.

"Well, I must thank you for an entertaining evening, Miss Makino. It's been a pleasure." He reached for her hand then, and she could do nothing but stare in wonder as he brought it to his lips, and quite suddenly she found herself aware of little else but the stubble on his cheeks grazing her skin as he brushed his lips against her knuckles. He didn't take his eyes from hers, and they shone with mischief as he finally released her hand and turned to go, leaving her standing in his wake, stupefied. Stopping by the bat-wing doors, he turned his head to look at her.

"You know, it's not every day one comes across a barmaid who can handle an entire pirate crew on her first night of running a tavern," he declared with a wink, before reaching forward to push the doors open.

"Take care, love," he said over his shoulder, a mysterious smile on his face. "And perhaps our paths will cross again one day."

And then he was gone, the bat-wing doors swinging softly in his wake.

Makino didn't move from her place by the counter for a good minute, staring at the empty doorway and the softly swinging doors, the skin of her left hand still tingling. It was only when she managed to tear her eyes away, that she caught sight of the pile of gold coins on the bar-top before her. Her eyes widened at the sight, and she contemplated for a split second the thought of running after him. After all, it was much too large a sum to accept as payment, despite the amount of alcohol they had consumed. The amount in front of her equaled a _month's_ worth of business – at the very least! She was halfway across the room before she stopped herself, a sigh escaping her lips. She was tired, and it _was_ late. So he thought he was clever, hmm? Distracting her with that kiss. She blushed at the thought, and mentally scolded herself as she turned away from the doors.

In the end, she decided she would go down to the docks to settle it with the man himself in the morning. It _was_ too late for a young woman to be gallivanting outside this time of night, and she had a bar to clean. Besides, she couldn't leave Luffy alone, should the boy wake up and find the tavern empty and her gone. So she gathered the coins up, cleaned the common room and made her way to bed, checking on Luffy before heading to her own room.

And for the first night since her patron's passing, Makino was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

* * *

The sun had just barely peeked above the treetops, and the chill of the morning still clung to the air as she made her way towards the village docks, a thick shawl wrapped around her shoulders and a heavy pouch in her hands, its contents clinking softly with each step taken. Few people were out this early, the only other person beside herself being a familiar sailor that often visited Party's whenever he was in Fuschia. He was fixing the sails on his boat as she passed him by.

"Up early this morning, Makino-san?"

She smiled down at him from her perch on the rickety old docks. "It's never too early when you've got a bar to prepare, Amaji-san," she said, eyes searching the few ships that lay gently rocking on the water beside Amaji's. She frowned. She recognized almost all of them, and the one she didn't recognize had neither a figurehead nor a Jolly Roger, and nothing about it suggested it being anything but a simple merchant's ship.

"Looking for something?"

She tore her eyes away from the ships and back to Amaji, the frown still on her face. "The pirates that came in yesterday–"

"Raised anchor and left at first light," he answered before she could even ask her question. He shook his head. "Good riddance, I say. Pirates are nothing but trouble. I was surprised they didn't raid anything while they were here, though. They didn't bother you last night, did they? I heard they came to the bar. Makino-san?"

Makino blinked, having been pulled out of her thoughts. He'd lost her at 'left at first light'. She forced a smile onto her face. "Ah, no. Not at all, actually. They were surprisingly friendly, for pirates," she assured him, hands clenching around the pouch in her hands.

_You weren't going to let me give it back, were you, Captain? _

Amaji huffed, shrugging his shoulders. "Ah, well. That's all good, I guess, though I do hope they don't come back. Friendly or not, pirates are pirates. If you ask me, they-" his voice was lost to Makino as she turned her gaze to the horizon – tinted in the pinks and oranges of the early hours of the morning. There was no sign of a ship anywhere on the ocean. If they'd left at first light, they'd have reached the next island by now, she mused to herself, never taking her eyes off the horizon in the distance.

And as she stood there, gazing out across the ocean stretching out from her little island, as she had seen her Mistress do time and time again whenever she thought no one was looking, Makino marveled at the empty feeling in her chest; the feeling of having lost something. It was an odd thing. Nothing like the enormous loss she had felt at her Mistress' death, but it was loss nonetheless; of that she was certain. There was something different about this feeling, however.

It wasn't until she was pushing her way through the swinging doors of the bar, that Makino realized what it was.

"_Perhaps our paths will cross again one day." _

It was hope.

* * *

AN: It's such a wonderful thing.


	4. her heart wild like running horses

AN: In which another ridiculous parody by yours truly rears its ugly head, and Shanks has cold feet.

Disclaimer: One Piece belongs to Eichiiro Oda.

* * *

**Chapter IV **

The sun had long since risen above the treetops, yet it provided little warmth this late in the year, and Makino tugged her patchwork scarf tighter around her neck, adjusting the warm coat slung about her shoulders as she made her way up the hillside. It was nearing winter, and frost clung to the branches of the trees and the blades of grass on the ground, crunching under her booted feet as she made her way towards the old oak at the top of the hill. In her mitten-clad hands she carried with her a heavy, leather-bound novel, hugging its stout and familiar frame to her chest as she trudged towards her sanctuary.

Her cheeks were flushed and her breath was coming out in white puffs of air when she finally reached the top of the hill, and she inhaled deeply through her nose as she turned to look out across the village sprawled beneath it. It was a bit too early in the morning for people to be out and about, although with it being as cold as it was, most chose to remain inside no matter what time of day it was.

She sighed happily as she settled down beneath the old oak, the trunk familiar and sturdy behind her back as she rested against it, allowing her shoulders to relax for what felt like the first time in weeks. And perhaps it was. It had been a good month since her life had reached an abrupt bend in the road, and she had been all but thrown into an existence of responsibilities and work. And with the pirates' unexpected arrival on top of everything, after which it had taken a good week for the village to settle down – although some still kept an extra eye on the horizon these days – she had known little rest except the one she got at night. Which was why she had begun rising earlier to get her work done, giving herself a few hours of freedom to do as she pleased before the hustle and bustle of the day _really_ began. It was a good routine, as it gave her time to both do her job _and_ lose herself in the novels she had not had the chance to read in what felt like a lifetime.

Smiling to herself, Makino lifted the book into her lap, pulling off her mittens and running gentle hands across the worn, leather-bound cover. Her very first novel, and the one that gotten her interested in reading all those years ago. Mistress Emiko had given it to her on her thirteenth birthday, and had in later years declared that she _should_ have given her a dress or a decorative comb – something that wouldn't have taken up Makino's every waking hour.

"_You're reading that old thing again?"_

_Makino looked up from the novel resting in her lap, a smile on her face. Emiko regarded her with a curious yet fondly exasperated look as she rested her weight on the broom in her hands. The older woman blew a graying blonde lock away from her eyes. "How many times is that, now? Five?"_

"_Four, actually," Makino said, grinning shyly. Emiko shook her head. _

"_You sure it wasn't a magical book I gave you? Where the story changes from time to time?" she asked dryly. Makino giggled. _

"_No, Mistress. It's the same story; I just never tire of it."_

_Emiko huffed. "Well, I certainly hope you'll feel the same way about the life you're living _**_outside_**_ that book, if you put it down long enough to actually live it. Come on, put it away; you know how it ends, anyway. I'll make us some tea."_

Makino smiled at the memory, tracing a finger across the golden inscription on the front. It was her most treasured book, and ironically – as her dislike for fictional novels was well-known around Fuschia – the one thing in her possession that reminded her the most of Mistress Emiko. The protagonist in the story shared many of her late charge's traits, after all, being a strong-willed and fierce woman that no man could ever hope to woo, and who would not think twice about speaking her mind.

"_Comparing me to a fool in a book, are you? Well, there's one important difference between us; I'm _**_real_**_. Now get your nose out of that thing and go do your chores, girl."_

Flipping open the front cover, Makino allowed her gaze to rest on the tattered yet carefully preserved pages and the inked words staring up at her. Leafing through the first few chapters, she settled on her favourite part of the book – the part where strong-minded Nisura met the man who would turn her life on its head; the calm and stone-faced Bale.

_...She spun around in a slow circle, her fierce eyes taking in the sight of the approaching men quickly closing in on her. Drunk off tavern-wine, some teetered slightly in their steps, but the looks in their eyes were the same. Feral, hungry expressions twisted their faces, and she felt a twinge of fear mingle with the furious anger bubbling in her chest. _

"_Why do you run, sweet Nisura? All I wanted was a dance," one spoke up, a man she recognized from the tavern earlier that night. A man she had turned down. One of many. _

_Nisura's hands tightened on her skirts. "Any woman with a shred of sense in her would run at the sight of a face like yours," she remarked with a growl, stepping back ever so slightly, painfully aware of the wall at her back. She refused to let them see her fear. _

_The man grinned slowly. "Ah, yes. You said something like that back there as well, didn't you? Embarrassed me in front of my men, and I can't say I liked that." He took a step forward, still grinning. _

"_'The unobtainable Nisura'; that's what they call you. Refuses all men – and women. Intriguing, I thought. Because you see, Nisura," he said, the grin vanishing, freezing the blood in her veins._

"_No woman refuses _**_me_**_."_

_The men that had been slowly advancing on her picked up their pace, reaching for her as they came close. She hissed, thrashing to avoid their grasping hands, kicking her feet as she backed further into the wall. The man – she didn't even know his name! – remained where he stood, hands behind his back as he took in the spectacle before him. She felt hands on her arms, painfully tight, and she clenched her teeth as she tried prying them off. There was no use screaming – everyone was at the tavern, celebrating the latest harvest, as per tradition this time of year. Her hands were forced behind her back then, and she was pushed to her knees, and only now did the man start walking towards her, a patronizing smile on his face. Kneeling in front of her, he tugged her chin up. _

"_Still don't want that dance?" he asked, as though finding the situation amusing, and the anger in her reached its boiling point. Pulling back, she spat in his face, a surge of pleasure rising in her chest as he pulled back with a curse. Wiping his face with his sleeve, his furious eyes found her, and he reached back as if to strike her. _

_Abruptly, the force holding her down disappeared, and she fell forward at the sudden lack of stability, her arms shooting out to catch her fall. The sound of a scuffle reached her ears, and she pushed herself up...only to see the men having held her back on the ground beside her, out cold. Spinning around on her knees, she found that the same fate had befallen her initial pursuer, and by his still__form stood the tall shape of a man in a green velvet coat, fastening the sheath of his sword back at his waist. He turned towards her. _

"_Are you hurt?" _

_She could only manage a small nod, gathering her skirts as she rose to her feet. The man before her returned the gesture, before turning to walk away, leaving her amidst her fallen pursuers, stupefied. She blinked, shaking her head as she called after him, _

"_You know, it's interesting how the only man who doesn't make an effort in wooing her, wins her heart in the end." _

The calm observation took her by surprise, pulling her roughly out of her trance and back to the cold winter morning in Fuschia. Makino smacked her head against the trunk of the tree as she sat upright in her slouch, hissing at the pain shooting through the back of her skull. Her blurred gaze swiveled upwards, meeting the scarred and grinning face of Red-Haired Shanks, leaning casually against the tree where he appeared to have been reading over her shoulder. Dark eyes widening at the sight, Makino's mouth worked, but no words came out despite her attempt, and she clamped her lips shut to avoid looking like a gaping fish out of water. At last, she managed to find her elusive voice, only to end up speaking the first thing that came to her mind,

"You've read this book?"

It was far from the question she probably _should_ have asked, which was something along the lines of 'what the hell are you _doing_ here?', but it was all she had been able to manage in her state of startled confusion.

Shanks shrugged. "Years ago. It's from West Blue, after all. The author was from my hometown," he explained.

She realized her heart was still racing after his sudden appearance, and she forced it to stay calm – or at least make a little less _noise_, as she was sure they could hear her all the way down in the village. She sniffed, her cheeks coloring ever so slightly in embarrassment at her state of mind and, surprisingly, her state of dress, and she was suddenly extremely aware of the ratty old coat that had once upon a time belonged to Mistress Emiko, and the mismatched patchwork scarf she had knitted when she was young.

"Do you make a habit of sneaking up on unsuspecting girls, Captain?" she asked, still miffed, as he came to sit down beside her at the base of the tree. He grinned at that, and it was such a disarming gesture, she felt her irritation deflate almost as quickly as it had ignited within her seconds before.

"Well, I _was_ going to call out, but you looked pretty engrossed in that thing," he explained. "Do you know you mumble the words when you read? It's strangely endearing, despite its lack of coherence. What?" he asked, at the sight of the look on her face. Makino blinked, incredulous, and motioned wildly with her cold hands to his slouching form beside hers.

"I–you...what are you _doing_ here?" she asked finally. He blinked.

"Right at this moment? Having a conversation. In general? Well, paying a visit, of course. Told ya we'd stop by sometime, didn't I? Or...heh, maybe I didn't. Ah, well. We're here now. Just came in from North Blue. One of the guys went to warn you about the influx of customers tonight, but he came back telling us you weren't there. I had a woman in town tell me where you were, although I had to be extra charming to get it out of her. Not a particularly friendly village, is it? Everyone is so suspicious."

Makino raised a brow at his words, an amused smile on her face. "What did you expect, Captain? I told you it's not every day pirates stop by. Things have barely settled down after your last visit!"

His smile was wry. "Truly? Doesn't take much to excite these people."

She closed her eyes, a fond yet exasperated sigh escaping her lips. "You're impossible."

"Impossib-_ly._..charming? Well, I'm flattered you think so, love. Ben refuses to admit it, so I need my assurance from elsewhere, you see."

She snorted softly, surprising herself. Here she was, participating in friendly banter with a pirate captain she had met _once_, and knew even less than she knew the little old lady selling fabrics in town. The thought almost made her laugh, and she shook her head.

"What?"

She gave him a look, gesturing between them. "You...I don't _know_ you," she blurted, before flushing in surprise and embarrassment as she realized what words had stumbled out of her mouth. Shanks only grinned.

"Oh? Well, I could try to remedy that, if it would make you more comfortable," he said with a wink. Makino's cheeks only reddened further at that, and she turned her eyes away.

"Hey now, Makino-san," he began, nudging her gently to make her look at him. There was a sheepish and slightly apologetic smile on his scarred face. "I apologize for my forwardness. My mother always said I lacked propriety, and I do tend to get a little ahead of myself sometimes."

She shook her head. "It's quite alright, Captain-"

"Ah, ah. Shanks."

She frowned. "What?"

He shrugged. "If you're going to get to know me, Makino-san, you can start by calling me by something other than my title. And although 'Handsome' is preferable, my name will suffice."

She blinked, before a smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. "Captain."

"Shanks."

"Captain."

"...Captain Shanks?"

She grinned, and he snorted. "Stubborn girl. Alright, have it your way, although I promise you I'll have you calling me Shanks by the end of the week."

_That_ caught her attention. "Week?"

He nodded. "Damaged our ship on our way out of North Blue, so we're staying a few days." He smirked. "Or would that be too much for these people? I promise we'll be nice."

She shook her head, the smirk on her face mirroring his. "No, it's quite alright. Perhaps it'll be good for them. Just watch out for the lady selling fabrics in town."

"She doesn't like pirates?"

Makino chuckled. "Oh, no. She _loves_ pirates. She's an old maid, and she's...well, let's just say she's a bit..._unpredictable_, when there are new men in town."

He laughed at that, and it was a warm and rambunctious sound that brought a smile to her face. A comfortable silence settled between them then, and Makino absentmindedly fingered the upturned page in her book.

"So does it really work like that?"

She looked up. "Does what work like what?"

He motioned to the book in her hands. "Is it really the silent, uninterested ones that catch your attention?"

Makino smiled, amused. "Can't speak for all women, Captain, but there's something distinctly desirable about the things you can't have," she said, giving him a sidelong look. "As a pirate, you would know firsthand."

"Touché. Although I'll have you know I refrain from robbing people. Too much effort. We prefer a more...comfortable way of pirating," he explained. Makino raised a brow.

"A 'comfortable way of pirating'? That's a new one! And what would constitute as 'comfortable', if I may ask?"

He grinned, and for a split second a distinctly childlike glee seemed to seep into his countenance. "Why, camping of course! Find a remote little island, enough alcohol to sustain a pirate crew of a few hundred men and a good parasol, and you've got my kind of past-time. Oh, that, and swordplay."

She smirked. "And _that_ isn't too much effort?"

He grinned. "Ah, but that's _fun_, see? I've got a sparring partner, too. Stops by once in a while for a match. Got eyes sharper than his sword, and he can drink us all under the table, but he's an amiable guy."

"Hmm. Meet a lot of those on the seas, then?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes. Lots of weirdos on the sea these days, though, looking for One Piece."

Makino gave him a look. "I can only imagine what people those can be, seeing as _you're_ the one calling them weirdos."

"...Was that an insult in there?"

She only smiled. His grin widened. "It _was_, wasn't it? My, my, Makino dear. You're not really as shy as you had us all thinking! You'd give Ben a run for his money, with comments like that."

She laughed. "Oh, I don't think anyone can top Ben," she said. "But I must admit, you do have them coming, Captain."

"Shanks."

"_Captain._"

He grinned. "I bet the little lady in town would call me Shanks," he said. Makino rolled her eyes.

"She'd also never let you get out of her sight once she'd laid eyes on you. She comes into the tavern sometimes to complain about the men in town, or the lack of them, apparently. Men in Fuschia aren't exactly what you would call...well, 'adventurous'. Pretty much only farmers and merchants."

His grin was positively feral. "Likes 'em wild, does she?"

Makino laughed at that. "Indeed. Village men were never her type, hence her being unmarried still. And there's an old rumor going around that she was once a pirate, but no one has any proof," she said. "It's a good theory, though. She's rather...fierce."

He grinned. "Sounds like my kind of woman!" he declared with a wink. Makino blushed.

"Watch your words, Captain, or she'll hear you and come running," she warned, a smirk on her lips. Her eyes suddenly widened, and her mouth dropped open. Shanks blinked.

"What's wrong?"

"What...what are you _wearing_?!"

His eyes dropped downwards, but his look remained uncomprehending. "What? This is what I always wear," he said, tugging at the fabric of his capris.

"Are you aware of the time of year, Captain?"

A wry smile tugged on his lips. "The frost kind of tipped me off, love, but would you so kindly point it out to me regardless?"

She glared. "You're mocking me."

"And you don't approve of my choice in apparel."

She slapped his bare leg. "Sandals! Who wears sandals in winter? And _capris_?"

He shrugged. "They're comfortable. Much more comfortable that stubby boots, I'll have you know. And I _would_ know; I've visited quite a few winter islands in my time. I'm immune to the cold," he declared.

"...your toes are blue."

He looked down again, and his brows shot up into his hairline. "Huh. Would you look at that." He tried wiggling them, and winced. "Yeah, not good."

She rolled her eyes. "Immune my left foot," she muttered, rising to her feet. "Come on," she said. He looked up at her, blinking. With a huff, she reached for his hand, tugging at him.

"Where are we going?"

She pushed him towards the slope leading down to the village. "To Party's to get you some socks, you foolish man."

"Socks? I can't have socks in my sandals, Makino, I'll look ridiculous!"

She nudged him hard. "Not as ridiculous as you'll look after they've amputated your feet from frostbite."

"...can they _do_ that?"

She rolled her eyes, an exasperated yet amused smile on her lips. "Honestly, Captain, are you sure you're not Luffy's long lost father? Because you act just like him sometimes."

They had reached the bar by now, making quite the pair, what with her in her full winters apparel, and him in capris and sandals, and there were quite a few villagers not so covertly staring at them as they walked past, some peeking past the curtains in their kitchen windows. Makino ignored them all, knowing a rumor of some kind was going to be all over town in the matter of minutes and knowing even better that she could do nothing to stop it. She pushed open the doors to the tavern, leading him inside. "Sit."

He did as he was told, and she headed for the stairs, tugging off her coat and scarf as she went. There was a room at the very end of the hallway that contained all sorts of old clothes – some were Garp's, having been left at the tavern for mending years ago and long forgotten – and as she'd thought, she found a pair of large, woolen socks amongst the neatly folded cloth. Lifting them up, she hesitated, her nose wrinkling, before tentatively bringing them close to her face. Breathing a sigh of relief when she smelt nothing out of the ordinary, she turned to head back downstairs, only to freeze in her tracks at the top of the staircase. Her back went rigid as the happenings of the past few minutes came rushing past her mind's eye.

What was she _doing_?

Glancing down at the socks in her hands, she resisted the urge to scream into them. Had she just treated the captain of a _pirate crew_ like a petulant _child_?

Oh, heavens above what was that man _doing_ to her?

She could not remember a time she'd been so open around another human being, save perhaps Garp, but even towards the eccentric marine did she sometimes hold herself back. But Shanks...

She chewed on her bottom lip, her mind reeling. He was surprisingly kindhearted, for a pirate, and had let her boss him around without complaint. But what if he secretly _did_ take offense? Oh, she was an absolute idiot sometimes. What had she gotten herself into?

"Everything alright up there? Did the socks get you, perhaps?" There was amusement in his voice – clear and without a hint of anything else, not even sarcasm. She sighed, hands clenching around the socks she carried as she began her hesitant descent of the staircase. When the common room came into view, he was still seated at the stool where she had left him, a smile on his face and a curious look in his eyes. She felt a blush rise in her cheeks. He frowned.

"Something the matter?"

She chuckled breathlessly. "I'm...sorry, Captain. I don't know what's come over me. My behavior–"

"Is nothing to apologize for," he cut her off, a serious look on his face. She closed her mouth, fingers twitching nervously around the woolen fabric in her grip. He smiled, and it was softer than the others, and knowing, as though he was aware of the turmoil inside her.

"If anyone is apologizing, Makino, it should be me. Piracy is a normalcy where I come from, but here it's like a sign of the apocalypse," he said. She smirked.

"Something like that, yes."

He was silent for a moment, regarding her closely from his place by the bar, before saying, at length, "I _can_ go, if you want–"

Surprising herself as much as she probably surprised him, Makino stepped forward to protest. "Oh, no, that's not what I want at all!" And the second the words rolled off her tongue, she resisted the urge to smack herself for sounding like such a...well, _girl_. She coughed, averting her eyes.

"What I mean is that...you can...stay...if you want. To stay. Here." She sighed, feeling like tearing out her hair. "I seem to have problems remembering my propriety around you," she muttered with a shake of her head.

He grinned. "Don't worry about it. It's endearing."

The word sent her heart skipping a beat, and she tried to ignore it, focusing her attention on gathering her thoughts into making a coherent sentence. "I found you socks," she announced, almost shyly, holding them up. They were thick, with thick stripes of white and bawdy green. He raised a brow at the sight, and there was a moment of silence where he seemed to contemplate whether or not he had ever seen such a hideous green colour, before he shrugged.

"I've worn worse clothing," he said, accepting them as he kicked off his sandals. She smirked.

"Somehow, I don't doubt that."

He shot her a look, before straightening on his chair, wiggling his toes in his new socks. She stifled a chuckle – he _did_ look rather silly. Turning to the bar, she asked, "Would you care for a drink, Captain?"

"Shanks. And yes, please. Something with enough alcohol to make these stripes fashionable, if you would."

"Planning to drink me dry, are you?"

"...is that a challenge?"

She smirked. "I don't think I'll take that risk. Here." She handed him a mug. "On the house, courtesy of yourself and that heinous amount you left on my counter when you left."

He looked scandalized. "_Heinous_? I thought it was an appropriate amount, given the circumstances."

She raised a brow. "I could have built a new _bar_ with those coins, Captain."

He grinned. "And? It's a good thing, isn't it? You can't have _that_ many customers coming here on a daily basis, and a few extra coins can only come in handy."

She regarded him closely for a moment from across the counter, her brows furrowed in thought. "You're not going to let me give it back."

He grinned, raising his mug in a toast. "Not a chance. And if I find you sneaking them into my pockets, I'll leave an even more heinous amount when we leave _this_ time."

She rolled her eyes, trying desperately to ignore the way the word 'leave' seemed to glue itself to the forefront of her mind. "I don't think I'll take the chance, thank you," she said with a wry smirk.

"Not that kind of girl, hmm?" he asked, regarding her from atop the brim of his mug, his dark gaze smoldering. She smiled demurely in return, forcing the blush she knew was coming, back down.

"No. You're just not my kind of man, Captain."

He raised a brow at that, putting his mug down on the counter with deliberate slowness. "Those are dangerous words, Makino. Could give a guy ideas of proving you wrong."

She smiled. "Yes, but you've read the book. '_I will not be proved neither wrong nor right',_" she quoted with a smile.

He grinned at that, and there was something distinctly feral about it that sent her heart leaping in her chest, and...was..he...leaning towards her? The thought sent her mind screeching to an abrupt halt, and she was quite sure she had stopped breathing as she found herself in the scrutiny of those smoldering eyes. Her heart pounded loudly and erratically against her ribcage, and she was half-certain she was going into cardiac-arrest when,

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

The familiar, amused baritone startled her so much she dropped the glass she was holding onto the counter, sending shards flying everywhere, and her eyes shot towards the doorway and the tall man standing there. Ben was flanked by the crew, and had a bemused look on his face as his eyes took in the spectacle before him – the redness in Makino's cheeks, the broken glass, and finally, his captain's current choice of footwear. His brow rose at the sight of the striped socks, and he shook his head.

"You know what? I'm not even going to ask."

* * *

AN: Oh, you know you want to, Benny.


	5. paperback fragility, tender like fear

AN: Suddenly 'platonic' is no longer a word fit to describe their friendship.

Disclaimer: One Piece belongs to Eichiiro Oda.

* * *

**Chapter V **

It was getting hard to concentrate.

Makino busied herself at the back room of the bar, supposedly checking inventory, but in reality trying to desperately clear her mind of the swirling, spinning and not entirely innocent thoughts having taken residence in it as of late. The same thoughts that had kept her awake since the awkward incident at the bar yesterday, when Ben had interrupted...

_What? _She shook her head fiercely, eyes clenched shut and hands at her temples. She wouldn't allow herself to answer the question, let alone _think_ about it, knowing it would only lead to speculations of what could or would have happened. Dangerous speculations, dangerous ideas, dangerous man. And he was. Dangerous, that is. In so many ways, and although it should have made her keep a healthy distance, it only served to intrigue her. She was but a woman – a young woman. Sheltered, and much too curious for her own good, as her Mistress had always pointed out to her.

And now she was paying the price.

Clenching her hands against her sides, Makino leaned her head against the wall behind her. The sounds from the tavern – the now familiar raucous voices and laughter, and in the midst of it all, the off-key tunes of Bink's Sake– reached her ears, muffled by the wall separating her from the pirates. And the object of her distress, seated at the bar, as always.

She sighed. She knew she would have to go back soon, or, heaven forbid, one of them might come looking for her. And she didn't know how much more of the sight of those dark eyes she could take before she went and did something reckless. And it certainly didn't help that Ben was there, too, with that smug smile on his face. She resisted the urge to tear at her hair. When had things gotten so damn complicated?!

She huffed, not needing to be told to know the answer. And she knew perfectly well that she was mostly the one at fault. _He_ certainly didn't seem to be affected by the abrupt change in their otherwise completely platonic friendship. Acquaintance. Whatever it was.

Then again, he _was_ a pirate. And older than her...probably had a girl in very port...and tons of experien-

She stopped herself, slapping her hands in front of her eyes to block out the images that her traitorous mind was conjuring. She didn't want to think about it – those other girls that may or may not exist somewhere on the four seas; that had been or would be in the same situation she was in now. Charmed senseless by a handsome pirate captain, and allowing themselves to give into that smile and those eyes...

She bit down on her bottom lip. She _had_ found him charming. And handsome. From the very first time she'd laid eyes on him, she had found herself strangely drawn to the odd redhead that had come waltzing into her bar. And his good humor and kindness had only added fuel to the fire that had unknowingly started burning within her. He was a regular prince charming – save the horse and the prince-part, and taking into consideration his occupation as a sea-faring criminal – and she had foolishly allowed him to get under her skin.

And the worst part of it was that some part of her was actually considering the idea. Longing for it, in fact. The sheltered part of her that had never truly known the touch of a man, save that clumsy kiss on her eleventh birthday by that timid boy from down the street. The man at the bar was neither clumsy nor shy, however, and the fact intrigued her to the point that she found herself wanting to find out what it would be like, to be with someone such as he. Would it be anything like in the books? She had never dared ask Mistress Emiko about such matters – fearing the response, and being so terribly embarrassed in her early adolescence – so most of her experience, if you could even call it that, came from what she had read. And although she had read quite a lot, she felt that it would be somewhat different in real life. Different, but _how_?

She shook her head, a blush rising in her cheeks, and suddenly she felt very, very young indeed, and his supposed experience not quite so intriguing as it had been but moments before. She must have looked like such a fool, completely stupefied by his actions the other day, and she feared to think about what she would have done had Ben not–

No. Hadn't she agreed she wouldn't think about that?

Exhaling deeply, Makino opened her eyes. Had Mistress Emiko been alive to see her now, she would have slapped her silly. She embraced the thought, although not without a hint of sadness. The ache in her heart and the knot in her belly, although unfamiliar, were not entirely unpleasant. And it _scared_ her. With a sigh, she turned for the door, hands gripping the knob as she prepared to step out into the bustling common room, and into the sight of those smoldering eyes. Her heart made a small jump in her chest, and a sad smile tugged at her lips.

_Was this how it was for you, too, Mistress? All those years ago? _

"Ah, there she is! Told you she was coming back, Ben. See?"

The declaration greeted her as she stepped out of the storage-room, and she smiled in reply – mentally flinching at its awkward nature – and tried to keep her gaze away form his. Ben only smiled, regarding her knowingly from where he sat beside his captain, and Makino felt like forcibly wiping it off his face with the rag she had taken into her hands, and was wringing rather violently.

"I only said there would be no surprise on my part, should she have chosen to make a run for it, Captain. Braver men have tried and failed to remain in your company for long, after all."

Shanks grinned, raising his glass. "And only the best remain!" he declared, bringing it to his lips with a wink. Makino smiled slightly as she leaned her weight on the counter.

"Is he truly that difficult, Ben-san?" she asked.

Ben smiled. "'Difficult' is an understatement, Makino-san, as I am sure you've noticed," he began, ignoring the indignant snort from beside him. "And you have only seen him in his better moods."

"There are worse?" She was grinning now. Ben, despite his calm nature, was every bit the verbal sparring partner his reputation preceded him as, and Makino genuinely enjoyed the banter. It took her mind off the man sitting beside him, after all, if only for a few moments.

"Going to have fun at my expense again, Benny?" Shanks asked, raising a brow at his first mate.

"As always, Captain."

Shanks snorted, shaking his head. "Look what I have to put up with! I should find myself a new first mate, you know. Someone who worships the sea beneath my ship."

Ben smirked. "I'd give him a week."

"You have such faith in this man, Ben-san. I'd give him two days, if he's patient," Makino cut in, smiling demurely to herself as she picked up a glass to polish. Shanks rolled his eyes.

"Look what you've done, Benny! You've turned her into...well, _you."_

"What can I say, Captain? She's a fast learner."

A snort. "It's a conspiracy if I ever saw one. And I've seen my fair share of conspiracies, I'll have you know."

"I know, Captain. You've told me."

"Have I? Ah, well. Saves me the trouble of telling you now, then."

"I can barely live with the disappointment."

"...you know, a lesser captain would have your tongue cut out for that."

Ben smirked. "He'd also not need my tongue to talk him out of doing foolish things."

"Touché. You're getting quicker, Benny. If this keeps up, I might have to start making an effort."

Ben only smiled at that, nodding his head in thanks as Makino slid his refilled mug across the counter-top. There was a moment of silence between the three of them, in which the two men quietly sipped their mugs while Makino tried to ignore the tension that seemed to have seeped into the atmosphere of the bar.

"So," she began. "How are the repairs on the ship coming along, Ben-san?"

Ben gave Shanks a sidelong look, to which the redhead scoffed. "She's not trying to get rid of us, Benny. We're welcome here. Isn't that right Makino?"

Makino smirked. "Old Lady Suzume seems to have taken a liking to you all. And you know Luffy adores you," she said.

"I was talking about _you,_ love, but while you mention it, where is the kid? Thought he'd be down here by now. It's been almost two days."

She grinned. "He caught a cold running around without a jacket, so he's bedridden at the moment. He tried to sneak out yesterday, without much success."

Shanks' smile was much too innocent. "Without a jacket, huh? Not very bright, is he?" he asked, handing her his mug.

She gave him a dry look as she refilled it. "You're one to talk, Captain."

"Hey! I'm wearing real shoes now, aren't I? Did it just for you, too, I'll have you know. Well, that, and because the socks itched. And I looked ridiculous."

"More so than usual, Captain?"

Shanks laughed, slapping a hand down on his thigh. "Ah, there it is! And about time, too! You were being awfully quiet there for a moment, Benny. I thought I might actually have to start putting out bait for you."

Ben smirked from behind the rim of his glass. "Let's hope it never comes to that."

Makino smiled at the two from her place behind the bar, absentmindedly polishing a glass that had undoubtedly been polished three times already. Their banter was comforting, despite the looks the Captain kept giving her, and the fact that Ben was aware of him doing so and not even bothering to hide said awareness. She chewed on her bottom lip in thought.

He wouldn't...do anything about what had almost happened between them...would he?

Did she want him to?

The thought would have been startling, coming from herself and all, had she not been anticipating it. She had given the idea a good deal of thought, after all. A bit too much thought, perhaps, but she really couldn't help herself. She _was_ curious, curse her for it, and she did want to know.

Didn't she?

An image flitted past her mind's eye, of Mistress Emiko standing at the bar, gazing out the window with a somber look on her aging face. Makino sighed, also remembering the joy in her Mistress' eyes that one time she had spoken of the unknown man from her past, the pirate she had loved and loved still, and the endless devotion that had kept her waiting for him all those years after his departure.

"_Tell him...I'm sorry I couldn't stay here...any longer...but that...I'm still...I'm still waiting."_

Makino let her eyes drift towards the window at the far end of the bar, facing the ocean, and in the darkness she could see her own reflection gazing back at her, showing the form of a young woman standing at the bar, idly polishing her glasses. And for a split second all sound seemed to fade into the background, and the young woman in the window suddenly had a hunch in her back and a mop of graying blonde hair on her head.

"_Don't give your heart to a man who'll never return, girl. It's foolish, and you're smarter than that." _

The voice and the words were clear, echoing through her mind as though they had been spoken not a moment ago. Makino spared a look at the object of her inner turmoil, sitting at the bar and grinning widely as he engaged himself in yet another verbal sparring match with his first mate, and not for the first time in the past month did she find herself desperately wishing for guidance through the storm she had unwittingly gotten herself into.

She should have been ready to drop by the time the pirates started leaving the bar sometime well after midnight. They sky outside was getting lighter every minute, and she suspected that the sun would be up in an hour or two. On any other day she would have been half-asleep on her feet by now, and yet, she couldn't seem to find it in her to go to bed.

The worst part of it was that she knew perfectly well why she was so restless, and it irked her, because hadn't she promised herself she wouldn't get into these messes? Hadn't she agreed she was smarter than that? That she knew better than the silly, fictional characters of her novels?

Clenching the rag in her hands, Makino let it drop to the counter as she turned to fetch the mop, the sound of the bat-wing doors swinging shut and the cheerful yet slurred farewell of the remaining pirates following her as she stepped into the cool storage-room.

And then, silence.

Running a hand through her hair, she allowed herself to exhale deeply, and suddenly, despite her temporary bout of insomnia, she felt dreadfully tired. She contemplated just going to bed and taking a quick sweep of the floors before opening time. Yes, that sounded nice.

Putting the mop back against the wall from where she had picked it up, Makino dusted her hands on her apron, before turning to head back into the empty common room.

Only to realize that she wasn't quite so alone as she had thought.

"Captain?"

He was seated at the bar, as though he had never left in the first place, although she was sure he had – the feeling of his eyes on her back had disappeared, after all. But there he was. Makino smiled at the sight, hoping it looked anything but a reflection of the turmoil raging within her, and praying he couldn't hear the way her heart had just made a tremendous leap in her chest.

"Did you forget something?"

"You're uncomfortable."

She had gotten much too used to his perceptiveness, despite not having known him for very long, to be surprised by such statements. And knowing that denying it was pointless, Makino let her smile drop slightly.

"Am I going to have to say why, or do you know that, too?" she asked dryly.

He smiled at that, cocking his head slightly. "I can make a guess."

She sighed. "Look, about what happened...if Ben hadn't..."

"Then I would have kissed you, yes."

Her cheeks flared with colour and warmth, and she turned her eyes away from his searching ones. "No use beating around the bush, hmm?" she asked, feeling like ducking down behind the counter to hide her furious blush, and inwardly cursing him for not even looking the _slightest_ bit affected by the situation that was all but killing _her_.

He laughed. "Nope, unless that would make you more comfortable."

She shook her head, trying vainly to force her cheeks to stop burning. "I...uh, no. Blunt is fine. Just fine. Good. Well, now that that's out of the way–"

"You'd have kissed me back, you know."

She blinked, her mouth dropping open ever so slightly. "I-I would have done no such thing!" she sputtered, incredulous, and not entirely truthful, and she was sure not only her cheeks, but her neck and ears as well as every other visible patch of skin, were beet red by now. His perceptiveness she may have gotten used to, but his overall bluntness was never going to stop taking her by surprise.

Shanks smiled. "Yes, you would."

She bit the inside of her burning cheek. "Wishful thinking, Captain."

He grinned, challenge shining in his eyes. "It's Shanks, love, and you're going to have to become a better liar than that if you're going to convince anyone with half their sense that you're telling the truth."

Makino huffed, crossing her arms. "I'm not lying. I wouldn't have kissed you back then, and I wouldn't kiss you now, even if you...were to...try." The sudden darkening of his eyes almost made her take a step back.

"Not...that that was a challenge, Captain. What are...no, sit back down. I was jesting! It wasn't a challenge!"

He was quick. Too quick, for a normal human being, her mind supplied needlessly as she found her chin seized by a calloused hand, and for a brief moment all she could feel was his warm breath fanning her cheeks, and before she could gather her thoughts and push him away – away and out of her personal bubble before she ended up doing something she was going to regret, her eyes started to slip shut, and a spark of what could only be described as anticipation raced down her spine.

His mouth was less than an inch away from hers when she became truly aware of what he was doing – of what _she_ was doing! – and she felt her entire body go rigid at the realization, eyes flying open as her breath caught in her throat. He stopped too, and for a moment neither of them moved.

And then his hand released her chin, and he stepped back. "Looks like my intuition was wrong," he murmured. His smile was apologetic. "I apologize for my forwardness, Makino. I hope you'll forgive me?"

Her mouth worked, but she couldn't seem to get any words out. "Captain..." she tried, her voice lodging itself in her throat. He shook his head, picking his hat up off the counter and placing it atop his head, flashing her a grin.

"Never let it be said that I'm not an opportunist, but even so, I won't overstep my boundaries." He tipped his hat. "Have a good night, Makino."

And then he turned to leave, draping his dark cloak over his shoulders, and suddenly the words she hadn't be able to say before came pouring out, unhindered.

"I couldn't take it!"

He stopped in his tracks, but didn't turn towards her. Makino's hands clenched against her sides. "I couldn't take it, if...if things were to become something else. Something _more. _Because I...I couldn't possibly have gotten involved...with you...if...if it was only a one-time thing. Maybe _you_ could, but I...I can't," she confessed.

She sighed, closing her eyes, unable to look at him. "I _feel_ too much already, and I don't...I don't even want to think what would happen if..." She wanted to tear at her hair; she must sound like such a fool. An inexperienced girl-child having gotten in over her head.

"I'm sorry that I can't be...different. Feel differently. Because it's who I am, and even if I tried to change that–"

"Don't."

She blinked, and looked up in surprise. He had turned towards her now, and was regarding her with an expression she couldn't quite place.

"Don't ever change who you are. Not for any man." He smiled then, and it was a somber smile – at odds with his otherwise bright personality. Her heart ached at the sight. "You are quite unlike any woman I have ever met, Makino," he said, and his expression turned strangely serious.

"And I would never take you that lightly. If anything, know that."

Her breath hitched in her throat at his words, and she bit her lip, tears springing to her eyes. His smile was back a moment later, and he tipped his hat again.

"Take care, love."

And then he was gone.

And as she stood there in his wake, alone in the empty common room, Makino couldn't help but feel she had just made the biggest mistake of her life.

* * *

AN: Anyone ever had the choice of running after someone, and then you just stood rooted to the spot?


	6. trust, bound like leather

AN: In which there is a bet, and Makino gets some much-needed advice.

Disclaimer: One Piece belongs to Eichiiro Oda.

* * *

**Chapter VI**

Sometimes, Makino found herself wondering if being an old maid was a trend in Fuschia.

It wasn't a completely outrageous thought, either. Now that she thought about it, there were several unmarried women around town who were well past their prime. Emiko had been one of the more famous ones, in her time.

But the _oldest_ one by far was the one currently seated at Makino's bar.

And although there were a few good hours until opening time, it was a well known fact around the village that Old Lady Suzume never had and never would follow the same daily rhythm as everyone else. The eccentric woman was infamous for her independent nature, and everyone had long since settled with the fact that it was better to let her do as she pleased, than attempt to get her to change her ways.

She was also quite famous for her borderline crude attitude, something which Makino was well-acquainted with. After all, Suzume had been an old friend of Emiko's, and a constant in Makino's life for as long as she could remember.

Which was probably why the woman could read her pretty well. A little _too_ well, perhaps.

"Alright, out with it, brat. What's eatin' ya?"

Makino sighed from her place behind the bar. Suzume didn't come to Party's often – used to have a drinking problem, she'd said once – but every now and then she stopped by for a talk, more often than not long before the bar even opened, or after it had closed for the night. Even after Emiko's passing she kept coming by, as though completely indifferent to the fact that _Makino_ was now the owner. And despite having known her for all her life and having grown accustomed to her language and blunt nature, Makino could not help but feel uncomfortable at having to listen to explicit tavern tales from a woman she looked upon as a grandmother.

A chain-smoking, whiskey-drinking grandmother, perhaps, but a grandmother nonetheless!

She had tried telling her she wasn't Emiko, but it was like talking to a wall, and Makino was glad the subject had finally changed to something other than much-too vivid retellings of the woman in question's adventures whilst voyaging the seas.

Although when she though about it, she didn't think having the subject centered on _her_ was any better.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Suzume-san," she said, focusing her attention on folding the rag in her hands. One time, two times, three times. The elderly woman snorted in a decidedly unladylike manner.

"I wasn't born yesterday, girl. Spill it. What's with the look on yer face?"

Makino tried to subtly let her face go blank, knowing she was failing miserably. "There is no look, Suzume-san. I'm a little tired, that's all." It wasn't a complete lie. She _was_ tired.

Suzume regarded her closely, bushy brows furrowed over dark eyes that were much too lively for such an old woman. "It's a man, isn't it?"

Makino startled slightly, but caught herself. "What? No, the–"

"It's the redhead, isn't it?"

"There is no–"

Suzume hummed to herself in thought, a grin on her lips. "Got a nice rump, that one. Haven't seen one as shapely as that since I was yer age."

"Suzume-san!" Makino exclaimed, more than a little scandalized, although she should have been more than used to the woman's lack of propriety. Suzume didn't seem to take notice of Makino's distress.

"Does that mean the quiet one is up for grabs? I usually like 'em wild, but that one's good lookin' enough to make a gal overlook that."

Makino shook her head. "Suzume-san–"

"What, is _he_ yours, too?"

Makino blinked. "Ben? What, no, he–"

"Good. Ye've got the redhead already, after all. Need ta leave some fresh meat ta the rest of us. All this island's got is leftovers."

"Suzume-san!"

"What?"

Makino rubbed her temples. "Not that I don't appreciate your..._vivacity_, but I assure you, there is _no man_," she said. "So...it would be nice if you didn't...say anything. To anyone. Alright?"

A sly grin spread across the older woman's face. "Don't want Garp ta find out, do ya?"

Makino averted her eyes. "It would be preferable, yes, if Garp-san was kept out of this."

"'This' being the nonexistent relationship ye _don't_ have with the redhead?"

Makino nodded, a solemn smile tugging on her lips. "Yes, that's the one."

Suzume's brows furrowed. "What did ya do, girl?" There was no accusation in her question, only curiosity. Makino sighed, shaking her head.

"Nothing. I just...I stopped myself from making a mistake I would regret," she murmured. Suzume snorted.

"Mistake? Fool girl. The man's got it bad enough fer ya ta come back ta this backwater dump, and ye're talkin' about _mistakes_?" Makino opened her mouth to protest, but was cut off again.

"Ye know how many girls there are that wait their entire lives for a man like that? An ye throw it all away, because, what? Ye're afraid ta get yer heart broken? Well let me tell ya somethin', brat. That's what love's all about. It ain't the sunshine and pretty colours ye read about; it's hell and tears and broken hearts all the way. And that's the solid truth. Take it from a gal who's been there."

She huffed then, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, pulling her wrinkled cheeks into a grin. "But, the true stuff's worth all that. That is also a solid truth. I've lived a long life, and I've had my fair share of adventures, but ya don't want ta be my age and not have experienced _that._"

Makino regarded her closely for a moment, her own brows furrowed. She turned her eyes to the window. "He's a pirate." She said at length.

Suzume grinned. "Aye, he is. And a damn handsome one, at that. A godsend ta this old woman, I'll tell ya. I could die happy today with a man like that around. Especially one with a rear like _that_!"

Makino shook her head, an exasperated smile on her lips. "You never change, Suzume-san."

Suzume laughed – a hoarse and raucous sound, but it held a warmth and good humor that brought a smile to Makino's face. "Damn straight, brat. And don't ya go thinkin' I will!"

Makino was silent for a moment, fingers gently tracing an old dent in the counter-top. "Do you think it's worth it?" she asked after a few moments, not looking up from her absentminded ministrations.

Suzume shrugged. "It's up ta you, kid. But going by the look in yer eyes, I'd say ye're better off giving it a shot than leavin' it be." Makino frowned.

"But Mistress Emiko–"

"Would have been alone even if she let 'im go. She would have no other – or at least that's what she screamed at that Garp brat before she kicked him out of the bar thirty years ago. Anyone left from that time could tell ya the same. It's one of her more memorable moments, I believe."

Makino smiled to herself. "Sounds like her. And I believe Garp mentioned something of the like."

At the thought of the marine, Makino felt guilt clench around her heart. As a child, she had often pondered the nature of his relationship with Emiko, but had never dared ask, and had in turn assumed that that was how love and marriage worked. It had come as a surprise, then, when her Mistress had announced, in a bout of incredulous laughter, that they were indeed not married, nor in love for that matter.

But despite that, Makino couldn't help but wonder if Garp had always looked at it the same way.

"What are ya afraid of, Ma-chan?"

Makino looked up, surprised. Partly because the elderly woman had just voiced Makino's own thoughts, but also because Suzume hadn't called her 'Ma-chan' since her early childhood, when she had used to run in and out of the fabric shop and had had the old woman sow ribbons into her woolen dresses to make them pretty.

"I..." she sighed. "I guess I always pictured myself with a man who would never look at another woman like he looked at me. Like I was the only woman in the world."

She smiled, a bit embarrassed. "Is that strange?"

Suzume smirked. "A bit naive, perhaps, but not strange. We all start out like that, at one point or another, and we all secretly wish fer it, although only a few truly experience it."

Makino nodded, eyes focused on the dent in the counter-top yet again. "He's a pirate, and...I don't know, Suzume-san. I'm just afraid that if I let this...whatever it is, happen, that..." _That I'm just putting myself up for disappointment. That I'm going to get my heart broken. _

"He's what, late twenties by now? Early thirties?"

Makino blinked, brows furrowing. "What does that have to do with–"

Suzume held up her hand. "He's older than ya, fer one. And he's a pirate, yes. Ye're smart enough ta realize he's had his fair share of experience in areas ye're lackin'. And don't come tell me ye're not lackin', Makino. I've been watching over ya since ya took yer first steps, and I know everythin' there is ta know about everyone in this village. Ye're as clueless as a babe in the matters of the heart and the body, and the fact that _he_ is not, scares ya."

Makino blushed, averting her eyes. "You don't have to tell me, Suzume-san," she mumbled, somewhat indignantly, embarrassed to have her personal concerns waved in front of her face, and a bit miffed that they were obviously common knowledge in the village.

Suzume snorted. "I'll say whatever I damn well please, brat. Now listen up." Makino let her shoulders drop, and turned her eyes to the older woman.

"This ain't no novel – this is life, that is, as I'm sure Emiko's told ya before. If there are any gentlemen out there saving themselves fer the right girl, ya can bet this entire establishment ya won't find them on _this_ island! And believe you me, two virgins in one bed is one virgin too many."

"Suzume-san!" Makino blushed furiously, mind going places it should not, and earning herself another snort.

"Ye're not a girl-child anymore, Makino. Ye're twenty years old, fer cryin' out loud!"

Makino huffed. "My age is not relevant, Suzume-san," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. Suzume smirked.

"Perhaps not, but what I'm tryin' to say is that if ye're holdin' out fer some knight, ye're goin' ta be holding out fer a long time."

The smirk turned into a sly grin. "Or ya could grab the chance ye've been given. If I was yer age, I would. Hell, when I was yer age, there were hardly any pirates at all in these parts of the ocean, and certainly not lookers like that redhead of yours. _I _had to go out ta find them myself!"

Suzume gave her a sharp look. "Now don't get me wrong, girl. I'm not tellin' ya ta risk everythin'. I can see it in yer eyes ya care for the man. It's a dangerous game ye're playin', but do ya want ta look back at yer life at my age, and regret never having taken a single gamble? Can't win if ya don't make any bets, ya know."

"Besides," she added with a downright devilish smile. "He looks like he's good in bed, so it won't be a complete loss, even if it goes wrong afterwards."

"Suzume-san! Honestly, do you intend to embarrass me into submission?" Makino's hands were covering her eyes now, and she was sure her face could get no redder. If anyone had overheard that...

Suzume grinned. "Ye're thinkin' it, too, girl. Admit it."

"I'm thinking no such thing!"

A snort. "Prude or not, Makino, ye're still a girl. Nay, a woman now. And ya think I don't remember what went through my own head at yer age? Please! I ain't so old as to have forgotten what it's like to be smitten!"

Makino bit the inside of her cheek, averting her eyes as the redness in her cheeks deepened. "You find this amusing," she accused.

"Yes. Not that ye're makin' it difficult. Ye're like one of yer books sometimes, Ma-chan. I can certainly read ya like one."

Makino was about to open her mouth when there was a knock on the wall next to the entrance of the bar, and two pairs of eyes swiveled to the doorway as Ben entered through the swinging bat-wing doors.

"Is this a bad time?" he asked, politely overlooking the downright feral grin that spread across Suzume's face at his entrance. Makino smiled at the look on his face, and concluded that Ben would always be Ben – amused to the very last, no matter the situation.

"Not at all, Ben-san. Come on in. Can I get you a drink?" she asked as he stepped further into the tavern. He held up a hand with a shake of his head.

"No thank you, Makino-san. I just came to inform you of our departure tonight."

Makino blinked. "Tonight?" she asked, trying and failing to keep her voice neutral. _But they've only been here three days... _

Ben looked oddly sympathetic. "The damage on the ship wasn't as profound as we had first thought, and the Captain seems eager to get back out on the sea," he explained with deliberate slowness, his dark eyes regarding her closely as he spoke. Makino averted her eyes to the floor.

"I ask no questions," he said with a shake of his head. "I never have, and I'm not planning to start any time soon. And unless it is in direct danger to himself or any of us, I will not interfere with what the Captain says or does," he began.

"But...you're good influence, it seems. Not even Doc has managed to get him to wear real shoes before." There was a smirk on his face as he continued. "He is used to getting what he wants, and the odd time he can't have something, he will discard the desire completely." He shook his head in fond exasperation, before his eyes settled once more on Makino. There was a moment of silence between them, and Makino prayed Suzume would not break it by saying something inappropriate. In the end, it was Ben who spoke.

"Our original course was through West Blue," he said suddenly, a knowing smile tugging on his lips. Makino looked up, surprise showing on her face.

"He's impulsive to a fault, but he's never changed our route before unless it's been absolutely necessary," he observed further.

"Ben-san..."

Ben shook his head. "I'm not interfering; just making observations. It's my job, after all. That, and babysitting, it seems."

He nodded his head to the two of them. "I should get back before the wool-head does something foolish," he said. Makino nodded absentmindedly, feeling a distinct twinge of sadness in her chest at watching his departure. _Four days too soon. _

She forced a smile on her face. "Good-bye then, Ben-san. Take care of yourself. And...the captain," she said. Ben smirked.

"And you, Makino-san."

And then he was gone, leaving the two women in the otherwise empty common room of the bar. Makino watched him go with a growing feeling of sadness, and the silence between them stretched on until Suzume's voice broke it, a mournful sigh escaping her lips,

"Where was that man fifty years ago?"

* * *

The morning sun was bright in the sky, yet it provided no warmth as Makino made her way up the hillside and towards her favourite spot. The light dust of snow crunched beneath her booted feet, yet she could not feel the cold. She frowned as she reached the top of the hill, wondering briefly where her book was and why she had left the tavern without one, when she stopped dead in her tracks.

She was dreaming.

The thought struck her as her eyes caught sight of the figure standing by the tree, strong arms crossed over her chest and sharp eyes focused on the distant horizon.

"Mistress Emiko!"

She did not turn at the sound of her voice being called, and Makino felt a surge of panic, forgetting momentarily that she was dreaming as her feet started moving towards her charge.

"Mistress–"

"I always knew you'd fall for a man like that."

Makino froze in her tracks, mouth opening, but no words seemed to come out. She stared dumbly at the scene before her. Mistress Emiko, and behind her, at the foot of the old tree, herself and the captain. They appeared to be in deep conversation, but Makino could not hear what was being said. Her eyes snapped back to Emiko, who was watching the pair with an unreadable expression on her face.

"Mistress," Makino began. "I...I'm..."

Emiko turned her eyes on her ward, and Makino suddenly felt like a child again under that dark stare. She averted her eyes to the grassy ground beneath her feet, and a silence settled between them.

"I'm sorry," she whispered finally. She knew she was dreaming, but the guilt was real enough, and it clenched around her heart like a vice.

"Tch," Emiko clucked her tongue. "What are ya sorry for?"

Makino didn't look up. "You told me not to do stupid things like fall for the wrong man, and I went and did just that. And I'm sorry, but I couldn't help it, and...it just happened before I could stop it!" She looked up. Emiko wasn't looking at her, but had turned her gaze to the other Makino and the captain. Makino sighed.

"It's really nothing, Mistress. I let it go. I...before it could become, I don't know, _something_. I've let it go."

An unladylike snort answered her attempted apology. Emiko gave her ward a sidelong glance. "No, ya haven't."

Makino blinked. "What? Yes, I have. I told him I–"

"Ya told him ya didn't want to engage in something that would only end in heartbreak, but for you, the damage is already done," Emiko cut her off. Makino's mouth snapped shut, and her eyes averted them selves to the ground again. Emiko continued, "You long for him, even now, and that won't change any time soon. Trust me, I know." The old barmaid turned her eyes back to the pair under the tree, still chatting soundlessly in what seemed to be a never-ending conversation. Makino, too, watched them – transfixed at the sight. It looked so...

Natural.

The thought sent a flash of pain through her, and she grimaced, tearing her eyes away from the scene.

"You might push the feelings away," Emiko's voice cut into her thoughts. "But they'll always be there, regardless of who ya marry in the future, and regardless of what man ya choose, there will always be that part of you who'll wonder about what could've been."

She looked at her ward, and the intensity in her gaze startled the young woman. "Thoughts like that don't just go away, Makino. I _know_ ya – ya care deeply. It's a curse, and one day it'll be your undoing."

Makino's hands clenched at her sides. It was too much like the conversation with Old Lady Suzume, and it _bothered_ her, because this...this dream-version of her Mistress was saying things she was sure Emiko would never have said had she been alive. Her Mistress was dead, and these words mere figments of her imagination. Wishful thoughts conjured by her own mind to satisfy her urge to give in to her desires. Emiko would never have encouraged her to follow the same path as she!

Would she?

The thought startled her, but Makino forcibly silenced the voice, in stead raising her own, "What happened to not wasting my life waiting for someone who wouldn't return?" she asked. "I thought you wanted me to find a stable man and live a good life, not like _yours_!"

She had expected the apparition, or whatever she was, to bark back at her outburst, so it surprised her then, when a smile tugged at the corners of dream-Emiko's lips.

"I never said I didn't have a good life, Makino," she said. "I had him, for as long as I did, and I regretted nothing in the end. And then I had _you_, and that's more than I could've ever hoped or asked for."

She paused, before a sigh escaped her lips. "I regretted nothing – _still_ regret nothing, and I wouldn't have traded those few moments I had with him for anyone else – not even the sturdiest husband on the four seas, or even the Grand Line itself. But that was my life. _This_ is your life, my girl, and _your_ choice. Don't waste it on waiting, but don't trap yourself with thoughts of what could have been. Love is never easy – it's a burden few can carry without struggle. You will, too. Struggle, that is. As will he."

She smiled at that. "Men like him – the elusive, charming ones – are the ones that fall the hardest. And I can already see he's quite taken with you." The smile on her face was fond, something Makino had only seen a handful times in her life.

"Mistress Emiko..."

The older woman turned to her ward. The smile never left her lips, and she looked...calm. Peaceful. Makino found it suddenly hard to breathe, and the scenery around her began to fade to nothingness. Emiko, though, remained perfectly clear, standing before her as though in the flesh.

"What ya choose to do, Makino, is up to you."

The grin stretching across her face then, swallowing the previously fond smile, was decidedly cunning.

"And who said he would never return?"

Makino eyes shot open, her breath lodging itself in her throat as she was abruptly pulled from the world of dreams and back to reality. Her chest heaved violently, lungs gasping for air, and for a split second she was so disoriented she had no idea where she was.

And then it all came rushing back, image upon image flitting past her mind's eye before disappearing, taking along with them Makino's grasp on the memories of her dream. A sudden sense of urgency raced through her then, and she could swear there was something she was supposed to remember...

A gasp made it's way past her lips as she shot up in bed, eyes wide.

"_I just came to inform you of our departure tonight."_

"Shoot!"

Her gaze shot towards the window, and the slit of glass left visible by the curtain revealed that although the sun was not yet up, there was no mistaking the light of approaching dawn.

Darting out of the bed, almost falling to the floor as she tried to twist out of her blankets and run at the same time, Makino didn't bother grabbing her shoes nor her shawl as she made a bolt for the stairs.

_Please don't tell me I'm too late! Please! _

Taking the steps two in one, and nearly tripping in the process, Makino pushed herself to run faster, not knowing how much time she had to lose. The bat-wing doors of the bar swung furiously in her wake, squeaking loudly and causing quite the ruckus in the early morning bliss, but the thought hardly registered as she set a fast pace towards the village docks. The dirt beneath her bare feet was freezing, and tears welled in her eyes as she ran, pushing herself to go as fast as she could, all the while ignoring the harsh winter wind as it cut through her bones like a vicious knife.

Her breath was ragged and her throat burning as the docks came into view at last, and Makino could only thank whatever greater force listening that she awoke in time, as the ship was still there.

However, as she came closer, it struck her that they were very much in the process of raising anchor, and a fear like no other squeezed her heart, pushing her voice up her vocal chords and out of her mouth before she could even think of a further course of action.

"**SHANKS!" **

The name echoed through the air, loud and clear and surely enough to wake the people on the neighboring island, and although the sight of every visible head on the ship turning in her direction should have embarrassed her into oblivion, Makino found herself unable to care. Because all she could really focus on was the bright red of his hair, like a beacon of light amongst the pirates crowding the deck, and for the first time since waking up did she let herself take a much needed breath. Placing her hands on her knees, she dropped her head, letting the fresh air fill her starved lungs. The tears that had welled in her eyes slipped down her cheeks, and her vision blurred, but she didn't care.

She'd made it in time.

When she looked up, she suppressed the urge to smile. He looked surprised – that much she could see from her vantage point and through the tears clouding her vision – and she didn't dare move an inch until he had dropped from the ship and had his feet firmly planted on the rickety docks. There was not much of a distance between them now, but he took his time crossing it, his dark eyes never leaving hers, and she could feel her heart threatening to break through her chest.

In the background, she caught sight of the crew politely turning their heads away, although some tried looking discreetly over their shoulders, and she could swear she saw Yasopp hand Ben something with a reluctant grimace. Not bothering to ponder over the apparent existence of a betting pool, she turned her gaze back to Shanks, who was still approaching with measured steps.

"A little early for you to be out and about, love?"

The look on his face was a mixture of curiosity and suppressed anticipation, but his voice brought warmth to her freezing form, and her lips pulled into a wavering smile. His eyes were intense and dark as they regarded her as calmly as ever, and she blushed at the attention, turning her eyes to her bare feet and her blue toes.

"I know I look ridiculous," she began, her voice escaping her lips in a rush. She winced. "I mean, I know this...this looks strange, considering what I said before, and I...I know you have no obligation to listen to what I have to say, but the thing is...I've...I've been thinking," she said, biting the inside of her cheek, her eyes still on her feet. "I _know_ what I said, and I know this is not...healthy, for me, but I can't...I can't stop thinking about you...it, _this_." She sighed, frustrated at her own lack of comprehension.

"What I'm trying to say is-"

The hand grasping her chin cut her off, and before she had time to react to the familiar and startling gesture, he was kissing her, and any further words she might have had prepared vanished into nothingness as she all but melted against him, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her as her breath caught in her throat. The kiss sent warmth surging through her to the very tips of her toes, and suddenly there was no more cold or tears or regrets. It was only him and her.

Well, them, and the crew now unabashedly watching the spectacle, for she was sure she heard a cat-call or two from somewhere in that direction.

But as she found herself pulled against him, his stubble coarse against her skin and his hand searing warm where it still held her chin, Makino could not make herself care. Because he was kissing her, and it was everything it should be, and more than she had ever imagined it could be. Disregarding the fact that she had no idea where to put her hands, of course, but any concerns she might have had about that particular matter flew away as he pulled back, and she was greeted by a warm smile. Makino found herself smiling back shyly, pale cheeks flushed and hair mussed from sleep, and despite her lack of knowledge of hands and places to put them, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at the look on his face.

"I was right."

His voice was a low rumble, meant for her ears only and tinged with amusement. Makino arched a curious brow, puzzled and a little dazed.

"What?"

His smirk was positively devilish, and he leaned closer, his breath grazing her ear and sending a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold. "Told you I'd have you calling me Shanks before the end of the week."

The comment, though unexpected, was so utterly _him_, Makino could not stop the laughter from bubbling up from her throat, and she shook her head at the sight of the decidedly boyish grin on his face.

"That you did," she murmured, fighting another shiver as it raced through her body, making goosebumps appear on her exposed arms and neck. The shiver had sadly little to do with the man holding her close, however, and only now did Shanks seem to take notice of her choice of apparel – or lack thereof, as it happened to be in Makino's case. His gaze swept across her form, dressed in little else but a loose gown that was neither very modest nor of a particularly thick fabric, and she blushed furiously as the realization of what she was wearing – or rather what she _wasn't _wearing – dawned on her.

"I must be a bad influence on you, dear," he murmured with an amused smirk, and then he was wrapping his cloak about her shoulders, fastening it by her neck with a wink. "Although _I_ had sense enough to wear shoes, even if they were only sandals," he added, letting his hands drop to his sides as he regarded his handiwork.

The thing was much too large for her, reaching her ankles where it reached his knees, and making her look like she was wrapped in a tent or a ship's sail rather than a cloak, but it was warm and comfortably heavy on her shoulders, smelling of salt and gunpowder and something she couldn't quite place, but that was so undoubtedly _him._ She grinned at the gesture, her heart fluttering wildly behind her ribs, and she tugged the cloak tighter around herself. And although it was no velvet coat, it was like a gesture right out of her most treasured novel.

Then again, Makino thought as she clutched at the worn fabric enveloping her small frame, it could have been a _real_ ship's sail for all she cared. It needn't even have been a particularly warm piece of clothing – the gesture itself was enough to warm her up, and she was sure her blush could be seen all the way down on the ship by the docks. She grinned at him, eyes twinkling from behind her unkempt fringe.

And then she did something that took both of them by surprise.

In a sudden surge of confidence, Makino found herself stepping forward, and rising to the tips of her bare toes, she placed her lips on his.

Or she tried to. Their difference in height was a bit more than she had calculated, and in stead of catching his lips, she ended up hitting his jaw in stead. Her laughably failed attempt had her blushing like a girl and wanting nothing more but for the ground to swallow her up where she stood, but he didn't give her a chance to shy away as he dipped his head to catch her lips with his, his hands moving up to cup her cheeks, and she wobbled slightly on her toes as she finally made use of her hands, grasping his wrists to hold herself steady.

It wasn't like the books – on many levels, one of them being the glaringly obvious fact that fictional heroines didn't _miss_ when they made their move – but her failed attempt at putting into life what she had read time and time again but never actually experienced was quickly forgotten in the painful pleasure of having his lips on hers, and his stubble scratching her skin. No, Makino decided as he smiled against her lips, and she dropped her hands to grasp his shirt and allowing him to pull her closer. But she didn't need it to be like her books.

And the authors had apparently never been kissed properly, either, because never had she read anything even remotely similar to _this_.

"That's my favourite cloak, you know," he murmured against her jaw, a smirk tugging on his lips. "It would be a darn shame if I were to forget it somewhere." His dark eyes were on hers, and there was a serious light in them, despite the humor in his voice,

"I might just have to come back and get it."

She grinned at that, her heart soaring in her chest and her eyes twinkling. "We better make sure you don't forget it, then," she said. His grin mirrored hers.

"I _am_ pretty forgetful sometimes. Ben calls it the bane of his existence, and he might just have a point."

Makino smiled, catching sight of the man in question in the background, at the ship with his back to them, politely giving them privacy although the rest of the crew seemed to have abandoned all other activities in favor of watching them.

"There was a bet on whether you would come or not, you know," he said then. He was looking over his shoulder, brows furrowed – an action that, although at quite a distance, had the entire crew hastily abandoning their shameless voyeurism and scrambling to do other things. Makino blushed, embarrassed yet humored at the thought.

"Really now?"

Shanks grinned. "Yup."

She smirked. "And which side were _you_ on, Captain?"

The smile on his face was far too innocent. "I might have earned myself a few coins. Although to be fair, love, Yasopp was the only one who bet against it."

Makino frowned. "Why?"

He grinned deviously. "Said you had too much sense. Guess you proved him wrong." She smacked his arm, and he laughed. "Hey! _I_ had faith in you!"

"You think I don't have any sense!"

"Ah, ah. _Yasopp_ said that. I had great faith in you, mostly. You had me worried for a minute there, though." There was a touch of concern in his voice, and she smiled, grasping one of his hands in both of hers.

"You had _me_ worried, you mean. I thought I was too late," she confessed. He twisted his hand so his was the one grasping hers, before bringing it to his lips. He smiled against her knuckles.

"Ben _was_ strangely adamant on taking our sweet time in preparing the ship. I have a feeling he had more money running in that bet than anyone else."

She smirked. _Something tells me you planned this, Ben Beckman. _"A sly one, that man. Make sure he stays out of trouble."

His laughter sent her heart fluttering. "Quite the task you're giving me, love. Ben being the rascal that he is."

"Says the one who's reckless enough for the lot you combined."

His hand was over his heart, a grin on his lips. "You wound me, sweetheart. I'm going to have to spar with Ben daily if I'm going to keep up with that wit of yours."

"You know it, Captain."

"Shanks?" he tried.

"Captain."

He pouted. "Ah, but you said it so well!"

Her smile was demure. "I don't know what you're talking about," she quipped. "_Captain_."

His grin was devious. "Minx. In for a game, are you?"

The smile never left her lips. "Challenge accepted, Captain."

The skies above them were light now, the morning sun's first rays already peeking out over the treetops, and she knew people were going to be rising from their sleep soon. He had to have been thinking the same thoughts, because the next moment his lips were on her forehead; a parting gesture if she ever knew one.

"Time for us to leave, love. I have a feeling we'll be needing to cover some distance before the sun sets too high," came the murmur against her skin. She blinked, but didn't have time to ponder the mysterious words before he was pulling back, a smile on his scarred face. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest, and she couldn't contain a smile of her own.

"Tell Yasopp-san I'm sorry for not being as sensible as he would have me be," she said. Shanks grinned, and, tipping his hat, turned back towards the ship and the crew that were now focusing all their attention on preparing the vessel for departure.

And as it glided across the clear waters of Fuschia port, towards the horizon in the far distance and another adventure, Makino remained at the docks. And only when the ship was but a spot on the now bright horizon did she turn, a grin on her face as she tugged the cloak tighter around herself. He'd be alright without it, she knew. After all, this was a man who walked around in sandals in winter.

And as she folded it neatly on a chair by her bed, fingering a tear in the fabric that she promised herself to mend later, Makino could not contain the excited smile tugging at her lips.

"Such a forgetful man."She patted the folded cloth gently, her eyes shining as the grin on her face widened.

"Looks like he'll have to come back and get it."

* * *

AN: Clever Shanks. Thy wit knows no bounds.


	7. a wrinkled spine, lovingly creased

AN: In which there is an interrogation, a present, and another silly, silly novel.

Disclaimer: One Piece belongs to Eichiiro Oda.

* * *

**Chapter VII **

Their hasty departure, Makino would realize a few hours later, had its reasons.

"Ma-chan! Ma-chan, hide me!"

The bewildered barmaid had little time to react as Luffy came bounding into the tavern, cheeks flushed and with a scarf wrapped around his neck. His dark eyes were wild with fright as he climbed up and over the counter, ducking down behind it and crouching beside her legs. She blinked.

"Luffy, what's–?"

"_**LUFFY!" **_

The bat-wing doors slammed open with such a force they were torn off their hinges, and Makino almost dropped the glass she had been holding in surprise as Garp stalked into the tavern. As usual, however, her fright vanished quickly once she realized who it was.

"_**Garp-san!" **_

The tall man blinked, as though only now taking notice of Makino's presence. The young tavern maid crossed her arms over her chest, brows furrowed as she took in the destruction left in his wake – this time the bat-wing doors lying on the ground by the doorway, mostly in splinters.

Garp scratched his head sheepishly. "Ah...whoops?"

Makino sighed. "Really, Garp-san. There _is_ a proper way to use a door!"

He smiled. "Ah, yeah. I'll have that fixed. Again. Sorry about that, Ma-chan." He apologized. Makino resisted the urge to roll her eyes, a fond yet exasperated smile tugging at her lips.

Maybe she should just remove the doors altogether. Gods knew how many times she'd had them reattached. She noticed Garp was still scratching his head, looking a bit lost.

"Can I help you with anything, Garp-san?"

His grin was sheepish. "No, no. I was just wondering what I came in here for."

Makino felt Luffy tense where he crouched beside her, and her heart went out to the poor boy. Garp's visits always meant some new and dangerous method of training, and Makino didn't even want to think of what the old marine had planned for his grandson this time.

"Perhaps you would like a drink?" she asked politely, wondering if she could possibly smuggle the boy upstairs without him noticing. The man opened his mouth to reply when a loud sneeze cut through the quiet atmosphere of the bar. Makino's heart sank. Garp grinned.

"Hiding runaways are you, Makino?"

She sighed. "Garp-san, he's been sick for the past few days, and–"

"All the more reason for him to get some exercise! He ain't going get better by lounging about; not if he's going to be a marine."

Luffy opened his mouth to protest, but a sharp look from Makino had him clamping it shut. It had become a mutual agreement around the village, courtesy of Old Lady Suzume, that there would be no talk of pirates when Garp came to visit. And as some of the villagers had grown accustomed to the pirates and therefore did not mind their presence, it was not a forced agreement. Makino herself had explained it to Luffy – that Garp knowing of Shanks' visits would only make the man visit more often, or heaven forbid, ask to be stationed in Fuschia temporarily. And any visit longer than a week was sure to kill the boy – he'd said so himself, and therefore knew to keep his mouth shut on any matters surrounding pirates.

"Garp-san, let the boy rest. Please? For a day, if anything," she tried. She had always felt a strange motherly affection towards Luffy, and remembered vividly the last time Garp had put him through one of his 'exercises'. She didn't know exactly what had transpired, but there had been talk of balloons and seagulls, and Luffy had had a nasty concussion for weeks afterwards.

Finally, Garp seemed to give in, grumbling to himself as he took a seat by the bar. "Fine. Rest today, then. Tomorrow the training starts! And don't even think about sneaking off!"

Ignoring him, Makino ushered the sick boy up the stairs, helping him into bed and tucking several blankets around him to keep him warm.

"Ma-chan?"

She smiled down at him as she knelt by the bed, brushing his hair away from his face. "Yes, Luffy?"

The boy sniffed, bleary eyes watching her from the cocoon of covers she had tucked him into. "'S Shanks coming back?"

Makino smiled. "I think so. He forgot his cloak when he left."

Luffy grinned. "D'you think he's got more stories when he comes back?"

Makino nodded, ruffling his hair fondly. "I'm sure he's got plenty new ones for you, Luffy. The life of a pirate is an adventure, after all. He's probably getting into trouble as we speak."

The boy's eyes shone at the thought, and a grin broke out on his face. "I wanna be a pirate one day, too, Ma-chan!"

She blinked at that, before a knowing smile settled on her lips. "Don't go telling your Grandpa that."

Luffy snorted. "Gramps doesn't scare me! I'm gonna be strong like Shanks, and fight him!"

Makino chuckled. "Not as a marine, then?"

"Nu-uh. I wanna be a pirate! The best pirate _ever_!"

"Better than the Captain, too?"

Luffy grinned. "Aa! The best!"

Makino smiled fondly, absentmindedly smoothing out the blankets covering the sick boy.

"Ma-chan?"

"Hmm?"

"D'you miss Shanks?"

She startled slightly at that, fighting to hide the blush threatening to rise in her cheeks at the innocent question, and cursing her inability to conceal her emotions.

"Yes, I guess I do. It's...quiet, without him around."

Luffy nodded, a yawn escaping his lips. "Did you get his present?"

Makino blinked."Present?" she asked. Luffy nodded, half-asleep already.

"Mm. Said so yesterday when he came to tell me a story. There's a present for you...down...stairs..." the rest of the words were drowned by another yawn.

Makino smiled. "Get some sleep, kiddo. I'll bring you some food when you've had a nap." Placing a kiss to his forehead, she rose to her feet and exited the room silently, leaving the door slightly ajar as she left. As she descended the staircase, Luffy's words nagged at her mind, and she sighed, torn between exasperation and curiosity.

What had he done this time?

Garp was still seated by the bar when she came back downstairs. "Can I get you anything while you're here, Garp-san?"

"You're hiding something."

Makino didn't flinch, having known it was coming. Because although considered a tad dense at times, Garp was actually quite observant. _A bit too observant, perhaps_, Makino thought as she steeled herself, letting an amused yet curious smile tug at her lips, and hoping it looked more real than it felt.

"And what would I be hiding?"

He regarded her closely, bushy brows furrowed above sharp, dark eyes. "You've got the same look in yer eyes as Emiko had thirty years ago. You've met a man."

Makino opened her mouth to protest, but closed it just as quickly, an idea presenting itself. Garp had a sharp intuition, so lying was out of the question. But leaving out a portion of the truth...

"Yes."

He blinked. "Yes? You're admitting it?"

Makino smiled. "I figured it was no use hiding it. You'd find out sooner or later, anyway." _Unless the fates are kind. _

He snorted. "Damn straight I would! Now, out with it. Who is it?"

Makino blushed despite herself. "A man quite like any other man, Garp-san. Although perhaps not quite as dull as you would have preferred."

"It's not an adventurer, is it?"

A demure smile tugged at her lips. "Oh, no. Too much of a hassle, I believe. He prefers a quiet way of life." _Which isn't too far from the truth, if you overlook the pirating and the...well, the adventuring. _

"Old?"

She opened her mouth but stopped, and blinked. She hadn't actually asked him about that. How old _was_ he, exactly? Was that something she should have asked him? Did he even have a clue as to how old – or how _young_ – she was?

"A few years older than I," she answered finally, trying to ignore the nagging at the back of her mind asking her how much she truly knew of Shanks – if that was his real name. Was he even a natural redhead? Did–

She brutally forced the thoughts – and the insecurities they brought with them – out of her mind. _It doesn't matter_, she assured herself. None of that mattered now. She'd ask him when he came back. No big deal.

Garp raised a brow at her vague answer, but didn't pry.

"Name?"

"...you're going to check for criminal records, aren't you?"

He didn't look even the least bit ashamed. "What kind of marine do you take me for? Of course I am!"

Makino sighed, shaking her head. "In that case, I'm not telling you anything."

"Afraid I might be onto something?"

She rolled her eyes. "No. If he does have a criminal record, then he's a very _nice_ criminal."

Garp snorted. "How reassuring." He took the mug Makino handed to him, and brought it to his lips.

There was a moment of silence between them after that, in which Makino contemplated her next course of action. She couldn't let anything slip by that Garp didn't need to hear. For all she knew, Shanks could have quite the criminal record, and a bounty to match. Garp might know very well who he was, so she had to be careful when trying to describe him without describing him too much. Vague was the way to go. He wouldn't question her further if she gave a satisfying answer.

Garp broke the silence then, "I hope you understand why I'm asking you these things," he said.

Makino, who had been on the verge of opening her mouth, closed it. She nodded. "And I appreciate your concern, Garp-san, but I am old enough to decide what is best for me."

He snorted. "Yes, so said yer Mistress, too, and look how she ended up."

Makino's brows furrowed slightly at that, remnants of her dream the previous night flitting past her inner vision.

"_I had him, for as long as I did, and I regretted nothing in the end. And then I had __**you**__, and that's more than I could've ever hoped or asked for."_

And although the words were something her own mind had conjured, Makino couldn't help but feel there was a certain truth in them.

"I don't think she regretted anything," she said suddenly, almost forcefully. "I don't think she would have changed anything, either, if she had been given the chance."

Garp paused with the mug halfway to his lips, and he regarded her from across the brim. Finally, a sigh escaped him.

"Stubborn woman. Always claimed she knew best," he muttered. Makino watched him, questions nagging at the back of her mind.

"Was he good to her?"

Garp didn't flinch at the question, but there was a long pause before he spoke, and his eyes had a faraway look to them.

"If you overlook the fact that he left her...then yes, I believe he was."

Makino blinked, surprised. She had expected the older man to vehemently deny such a thought.

"I though you said he was a pirate," she said. Garp snorted.

"Yeah. A _bad_ one. Barely had a bounty on his head. But...he had to have done something right. Emiko didn't usually give anyone as much as a second glace before he came along."

Makino smiled. "Do you remember his name?"

Garp scratched the back of his head. "Ah, Jirou...something. I remember what he looked like though. Horse-like face, and curly hair. _Really_ curly hair. Can't say I ever understood what she saw in him."

Makino shook her head. Leave it to Garp to forget the name of a man he treated with the disdain of an arch-nemesis. "Looks aren't everything, Garp-san. And perhaps you are a bit biased."

Garp grumbled to himself. "Biased! A blind man could've said the same! Now that I think about it, the idiot couldn't dress properly, either."

She rolled her eyes. "Are you really one to call others idiots, Garp-san?" she mumbled to herself with a fond smile.

"Eh?"

"Nothing, Garp-san. Refill?"

There was little in way of conversation between them after that, and Makino found her mind drifting to what Luffy had said.

Perhaps he was only jesting. She couldn't spot anything out of the ordinary...

Her brows furrowed suddenly as her eyes skimmed across the tavern. Wait a minute.

Placing down the rag in her hands, Makino stepped out from behind the counter, her feet taking her across the floor and towards the available though rarely used bookcase at the far end of the room. The backs of leather-bound novels and old tomes greeted her as she neared it, stacked neatly against the wall – her own doing some years back, and that had been the way of it ever since. On every shelf, all the books were stacked in order of size and height.

All except one.

This is new, she thought with a curious frown as she tugged out a thick, leather-bound novel. It had been stuffed in amongst a row of books half its size, and was so clearly out of place in the neat system Makino had made for herself. It was as though someone had left it there with the purpose of making her notice. The thought made her mind come to a screeching halt, and her eyes widened. Had someone wanted her to find it?

Could it be...?

Her curiousness increasing, mingling with an eagerness she had not felt since childhood, Makino flipped the cover of the book open. Judging by its appearance, it was an old book – used, yet obviously cared for by its previous owner. The first page was an illustration unlike anything she had ever seen in a novel – intricate and detailed and more fitting on a wall in some fashionable home, framed in gold and bronze, than amongst the worn pages of a book! Entranced, she flipped the page, barely managing to catch a slip of paper as it slid out from within its confinement.

It was a simple scrap of paper, clearly having been carelessly torn off something bigger, slightly crumpled but roughly straightened by being pressed between the covers of the book in her hands, and as she turned it over, only two words greeted her, scribbled on the white surface in a neat, curvy scrawl.

_An adventure. _

She blinked, frowning and finding the words incredibly familiar but unable to place them. Adventure...

"_Hardly, Captain. I assure you there are greater adventures to be found elsewhere."_ Her tone had been wistful.

"_You sound like you could use one of those." _A light comment – and an understanding she had not noticed.

"_Only the ones I find in my books, Captain." _

And there, the answer to her question.

She blinked once at the memory, before a smile bloomed on her face, threatening to tear it in two, and she resisted the girlish urge to squeal. Closing the book and turning it over, she found the author's name and its title, and her eyes nearly popped out of her head, as it was indeed the same author who had written her very favourite novel.

"_The author was from my hometown." _

She shook her head. The gesture was so terribly sweet and thoughtful, she almost did release the squeal that had threatened to escape. And suddenly it didn't matter that she had no idea how old he was or anything else of such an unimportant nature. He had just given her a book, and either he had an eye for details, or he knew her better than she thought he did. Either way, she didn't care. Hugging the book to her chest, she spun around...

Only to come face-to-face with the amused face of a certain marine.

"Garp-san!"

The man regarded her with a raised brow, taking in her flushed cheeks and the surprise on her face. "Everything alright?" he asked.

Makino blushed, having completely forgotten about the older man, and not even able to _think_ of how she had almost squealed in front of him. Like a silly girl. And after all that talk of being an adult...

"Ah, yes. Perfectly alright, I just...I just _love books._ And someone left one! In the bookcase. Must have been one of the patrons from last week. They...they seemed nice. Nice enough to leave...books. For me." She smiled, mentally cursing herself for her inability to produce a good lie, and for her terrible acting.

Garp snorted. "I can see Emiko didn't teach you to lie; you'd have her rolling in her grave if that was the case. That woman could _lie. _Luffy would have trouble believing _you_ with that look on yer face."

Makino looked at her feet, her blush deepening.

"I take it it's a gift from the man whose name ye're refusing to give me."

She smiled despite herself, biting her lip.

Garp sighed. "Giving ya books, huh. Knows you well, then?"

She could only nod. "My favourite author, too. And it looks old – a first edition, perhaps."

Garp eyed the book. "Can't say I know much about books, but I'm guessing it must have been expensive. Ah, well. You being you, I guess it's equal to a piece of jewelry."

Makino grinned, trying not to focus on the 'expensive' part. _Please don't tell me I'm holding some piece of loot. _

The though took some of the joy out of the present itself, but it was quickly drowned by her admiration for the many illustrations decorating its pages.

Well...he **was** a pirate. And it wasn't like it was gold or gems. It was a book.

And in her eyes, worth more than any pile of treasure.

* * *

She was half-asleep on her feet when the last villager left Party's that night. As it was nearing the annual winter festival, the people of Fuschia were in a particularly celebratory mood, and had spent the better part of the evening at the tavern. That included those who avoided the tavern while the pirates were in town, and who were now all but begging her to quench their thirsts.

Stifling a yawn, Makino placed the remaining chair atop a table, rubbing her hand across her face as she took in the floor and its messy state. She grimaced. It didn't need just a broom – it needed a mop. And two buckets of water, at the very least. She exhaled deeply, feeling and resisting the urge to simply lie down on the dirty floor and go to sleep. Shaking her head to clear her vision, she made a turn for the stairs. There was no use doing this on the verge of passing out – she'd do it in the morning.

The idea sounded even better and better as she made her way up the stairs, the creaking floorboards underneath her feet like music to her ears as she headed for her bedroom and in it, her bed with its comfy mattress and soft covers.

Her idea of a good night's sleep, however, vanished – along with her fatigue, it seemed – at the sight of the book resting atop the aforementioned covers.

And suddenly, all thoughts of floors needing to be cleaned and basic human needs that had to be fulfilled fled her mind as she gingerly picked it up. Her present.

...

Just one chapter couldn't hurt.

All but clapping her hands in giddy anticipation, Makino lit the candle on her nightstand, and, kicking off her shoes, settled down atop the covers, the book resting in her lap.

_The Lure of the Sea _told the story of the young pirate empress Freja – as fierce as the waters she sailed and as beautiful as her namesake – who, with a crew as rowdy and dangerous as a group of pirates could be, set sail to find the greatest treasure. At least that was what Makino had gathered after the first three chapters – the sun rising slowly above the treetops as the world outside the one in the book continued on without her.

"_What is it that you are looking for, Capt'n?" _

_Freja turned to her navigator – soft spoken and polite, but a genius on the open sea. "Didn't I tell you? The greatest treasure!" _

_Kanna frowned. "Yes, you said so. But what exactly is the greatest treasure? And where will you find it?" _

_Freja grinned. "I will know when I see it, and as to how we will find it...Well." She turned towards the bright horizon, painted a rosy pink in the early morning hours. _

"_That's what this adventure is all about, isn't it?" _

She had read a good hundred pages, and was in the midst of the aftermath of a terrible storm, in which the captain had been thrown overboard and lost at sea, when sleep finally claimed her. And there she remained, atop her covers with the open book sprawled on her chest, heavy yet comforting like any blanket. And as she awoke in the morning, almost falling out of bed in surprise, which then turned to anxiety as she had slept well past noon, Makino found herself tucking the book beneath her pillow with a distinct sense of anticipation, as she could barely wait for closing time so she could read about what would happen next.

And as she hurried down the stairs, not bothering to change her clothes as she had an entire common room to mop before she opened the bar, the realization finally struck her.

An adventure.

An escape from her dull life in Fuschia. Something to lose herself in when things got too quiet – too boring. He had given er an adventure.

Makino grinned to herself.

_Thank you, Captain._

* * *

AN: Because anyone can give you jewels, but it takes someone special to find the presents that truly matter.


	8. perilous the journey, tread lightly

AN: In which there is a lot of silliness. And even more blushing, but you've come to expect that by now.

Disclaimer: One Piece belongs to Eichiiro Oda.

* * *

**Chapter VIII **

Three full months had passed since their departure, when the pirates made their return to Fuschia.

By now people had begun to expect it, and thus their arrival did not cause quite such an uproar as it had the first two times. And although some still held suspicions about the pirates and their business in their little hometown, others had long since given in to the belief that if they hadn't done anything _yet_, whatever raid or massacre they had been initially expecting just wasn't going to happen.

Well, that, and most of the villagers had easily fallen for the charm of the easygoing crew, though none would willingly admit it.

Makino smiled at the thought as she made her way up the hill, the excited chatter of the village drifting back to her as she walked the path she knew by heart and in her sleep. Winter was slowly turning to spring by this time; the snow had all but melted, and the once cold winter sun now warmed her back pleasantly, and here and there tufts of grass had begun peeking forth. Makino grinned, picking up her pace a little as she neared the top, a surge of expectation pushing her forward.

She hadn't been at the docks at the pirate's arrival earlier, like Luffy and some of the more curious villagers. In stead Makino had chosen to remain at the bar, busying herself with prepping it for the influx of customers she was going to get. It wasn't that she _hadn't_ wanted to be there. Quite the opposite, in fact, and she'd had to go to great lengths to occupy her mind with other things and keeping herself from running down and all but throwing herself at a certain someone.

She blushed at her own thoughts, shaking her head with a sigh. Despite the urge to _do_ just that, she knew that if there was one thing she most certainly did _not_ need, it was giving the villagers more to gossip about than they already had. Suzume had been putting ideas in their heads. Honestly, it was nothing short of a _miracle_ Garp-san hadn't heard anything during his last visit.

But really, her reputation and common propriety aside, the captain didn't need more evidence of her young age, which such an action would surely be a blatant testimony of.

_Yes, let's keep the girlishness to a minimal, shall we? _

The top of the hill was within reach, and – anticipation simmering in the pit of her stomach and a nervous shiver racing up her spine – Makino picked up her pace and ran the remaining distance. She felt light as a feather despite the heavy shawl weighing down on her shoulders, and by the time she reached the top, her cheeks were flushed with the exercise. Pushing her bangs out of her face, her eyes searched the expanse of the hilltop, and a smile bloomed on her face at the sight of head of bright red hair. She'd hoped she wouldn't have to come down to the ship to see him – facing the crew after her downright embarrassing display on the docks three months ago wasn't something she was looking forward to. So seeing him there at her hilltop sent a wave of relief and elation through her. Him seeking _her_ out silenced the little voice in her head that had been nagging her for the past three months, asking if he was even coming back at all.

Turning to face her, no doubt having known she was coming even before she had started ascending the hill, a smile tugged at his lips, and whatever was left of her anxiety dissipated like steam, leaving in its wake a pleasant fluttering in her stomach. Eagerness.

"Enjoying the view, Captain?" she surprised herself by initiating conversation, as she came to stand beside him at the edge overlooking the sea. Shanks grinned, and she knew what was coming before he even opened his mouth.

"Indeed. Though I believe it just got better."

That she had to stop herself from giggling like a fool was proof to how infatuated she truly was, and out of sheer stubbornness, if nothing else, Makino fought to keep her smile vague. Young or not, she would not be reduced to a blubbering fool that couldn't keep her head level around a man.

Roguishly handsome or not.

She shook her head, her mouth quirking upwards. "Such a flatterer."

"Are you, then?"

She blinked, her mouth slightly ajar, incomprehension pulling her face into a frown. "Am I what?"

His eyes twinkled merrily. "Flattered?"

Makino laughed, shaking her head. "I believe you must make a bigger effort than that, Captain. But it was a nice try."

He grinned, and her heart did another jump in her chest. "Picky. Good. I like a challenge."

Her smile mirrored his, and she could only marvel at the ease in which they interacted, even after three months apart, and despite not having known each other for very long even before that. They were practically strangers – she certainly didn't know much about him despite the obvious, but the fact still remained that she hadn't felt such a connection to another human being aside from the woman who had raised her.

"So, did you like it?"

The query broke into her reverie, and she looked up, confused for a moment before it dawned on her. The novel. "It was quite the adventure," she said, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. Shanks hummed.

"It was pretty popular when I was a kid, if I remember correctly."

Makino couldn't help herself. "Hmm. Long time ago, then?"

Shanks smirked. "A gentleman never reveals his true age," he retorted, not missing a beat.

The remark earned him a daintily raised brow. "I though that only counted for ladies."

"Ah, details, love. Why the sudden interest in my age, hmm?"

Makino looked down, averting her eyes from his as a faint blush dusted her cheeks. "No particular reason. Just curious," she said with a small smile. A moment of silence passed, and she didn't think he was going to answer when he surprised her by opening his mouth,

"Twenty-seven."

She blinked. A wry grin tugged at his lips. "What? Is this the moment where you break my heart by announcing you only go for younger men?"

Despite herself, Makino couldn't help but smile at that. She shook her head. "No, it's...I could ask the same thing about you," she said at length. The grin never left his lips, although it had turned undeniably mischievous.

"Ah. You'll be pleased to hear that I don't go for younger men either, then."

Makino snorted. "That...you know what I meant!"

"Afraid I don't, love. You might have to spell it out for me."

She sighed. "You're enjoying this."

"Yes."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm nearly a decade younger than you – you do realize that?"

He raised a brow at that. "Yes, I managed to deduce that much, believe it or not. Is this a problem?"

Makino sighed. "No. Yes. I mean, not for me, but..I don't know."

"You're not making much sense, dear."

She shook her head, a chuckle escaping her. "No, I'm not. I'm sorry; I'm just being foolish. Ignore me."

His grin was devilish. "Afraid that's a bit difficult, considering how I've not managed to do so during these past few months."

She blushed, _again - _so much for not acting like a _fool_ _–_ and his grin widened. "Ah! Did my second attempt at flattery succeed?"

She shook her head. "You're incorrigible."

"And you're beautiful."

The blush deepened - _curse her – _and she averted her eyes."Ah, he does it again!"

She slapped his arm, "Stop that!" but the smile on her face betrayed her anger.

"And here I thought girls loved to be praised."

She smirked. "Perhaps in _your_ days, Captain. I'm afraid things have changed a bit since then."

He placed a hand to his heart in mock hurt. "You wound this old man, Makino. And while we're at it, I'd prefer if you referred to be with the proper respect. I am your elder, after all."

A laugh bubbled up form her throat. "Ah, yes. How could I forget? Would you like me to help you back down the hill, too? Need to watch those old bones lest they break."

He grinned, but his expression suddenly turned serious. "Does it really bother you? And honesty, now. You're not a very good liar."

She shook her head. "I just...you've seen so much. You've, well...you've _lived_. Age itself isn't the problem. It's more...experience." She chuckled dryly. "I feel like a _child_ compared to you."

He raised a brow at her words. "Truly?" She nodded, and a wry smirk tugged at his lips. "You should say that to Ben – he'd have a mighty good laugh at my expense."

She sighed at his attempt to lighten the mood. "Just...forget I ever said anything. It doesn't matter."

He frowned. "Funny, because I think it does. If it didn't, you wouldn't have brought it up."

Makino shot him a glare. "You're not going to let this go, are you?" she asked.

"Nope. Not until I'm sure it doesn't bother you."

Now it was her turn to raise a brow. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

The feral grin was back, and a shiver like no other shot down her spine. A hand was on her chin before she could think; calloused fingers tracing her jawline, and her breath caught in her throat, along with her heart, it seemed. He smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes with his free hand, and she wondered briefly if releasing the breath she had been holding would ruin the moment, or if she should just keep holding it. _And pass out where you stand? Brilliant idea, Makino. _

"A sight for sore eyes," he murmured, a fond smile on his face, and her heart slammed against her ribcage so violently she thought the entire village could surely hear it.

She didn't know what had given her the courage – looking back on it she would blame it on her momentary lack of oxygen – as she would have thought herself incapable of such, but as though pushed forward by some invisible force, Makino closed the gap between them, rising to the tips of her toes and placing her lips on his. And this time there was no misjudged distance, no clashing of teeth or following awkwardness. Only a simple touch of the lips, one she had yearned for the better part of three months, that sent her knees wobbling beneath her. The hand grasping her chin tilted her head gently to deepen the kiss, and there was no denying the surge of want coursing through her – the feeling so powerful it both encouraged her and scared her witless simultaneously.

When he pulled back, dark eyes were regarding her closely, and there was a smile on his face.

"And?"

She couldn't help but laugh at that, and for a split second she wondered what she had been so worried about. Had she been worried at all? She was certain the way in which he was able, without seemingly any effort, to make her forget her worries would always be a mystery to her.

Not that she was complaining.

Closing her eyes, she rested her forehead against his chest, her smile mirroring his. "You kiss well," she said then, a grin pulling at her lips. "For an old man."

She was sure they could hear his laughter all across the island, but she found that she didn't care.

Because it was the best sound she'd heard in three months.

* * *

"So, how have things been while we were gone?"

The question was asked sometime late in the afternoon as they sat beneath the tree, their backs to the trunk as the sun rose high in the sky above them. Makino's smile was wry.

"Oh, _wild_, as usual. Every day is an adventure in this place," she quipped. Shanks grinned.

"I can only imagine. Perhaps our return was in due time, then. This place could use a good party."

She hummed in reply, fingers fiddling absentmindedly with the hem of her shawl. Her brows pulled down in a frown as she tried to redirect her thoughts from the path they were currently taking. A dangerous path, with dangerous thoughts. Thoughts that would only give her headaches, surely.

"I fixed your cloak," she said suddenly, in an attempt at distracting herself, although his talk of their return was undoubtedly what had brought it to mind. "There was a large tear in it – I hope you don't mind."

He didn't reply, and when she turned her head towards him, there was a thoughtful look on his face, and his eyes were regarding her closely. Makino squirmed slightly under his gaze, fingers tightening on her shawl, which she was now gripping rather violently.

"What?"

She could almost _feel_ the frown as it pulled on his brows. "Something is still bothering you."

She remained silent, fidgeting further with her shawl. "It's just...I...Fuschia is...it's requires a detour, no matter from where you're coming or going. Why...?" she stopped, biting down on her lower lip, turning her eyes further away. They were both silent for a moment, before she sighed, letting out the breath she had been holding.

"I just...don't really understand why you keep coming back. And don't say it's because of the cloak – I know that was just something to stop me from going mad with doubt. But I'm doing it anyway, aren't I? I can't help but...doubt, everything, because I don't...I honestly don't understand you!" She huffed, her breath leaving her in a great 'whoosh'. "And I make very little sense – I'm sorry, Captain. I–"

"Having a base is a good thing."

She blinked at the interruption, before snapping her mouth shut. He smiled, never taking his eyes off her.

"When voyaging as we do, it's good to have somewhere familiar to take a break, and if needed, recuperate."

She frowned. "But it could be a much better located port, somewhere central, so you wouldn't have to take such detours every time," she said. He raised a brow at her words, and she blushed, almost averting her eyes again. "What?"

He snorted. "And Ben calls me dense – I had thought I'd made my intentions pretty clear."

The blush deepened. "Yes, but that doesn't mean I understand the reason _behind_ them."

He smirked. "With all the novels you've read, I would have thought you'd be quick to accept such."

At that, she rolled her eyes. "I'm romantic – not naïve. I'm actually finding this whole situation a bit too unrealistic. It just doesn't happen in real life."

"So we're in a novel, then? Fictional characters – creations of an over-imaginative mind somewhere, acting only on someone's whim, living lives that are already panned out before us?" He waggled his brows. "Creepy thoughts, Makino. Enough to deprive a man of his sleep."

"You're mocking me."

There was a grin in his voice, "A little."

She sighed. "Handsome captains don't come visiting silly barmaids in backwater ports, Captain."

"I'm handsome, am I? Always knew it, despite what Ben says. He's just jealous his hair is graying and not mine...why are you looking at me like that?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "You're not taking this seriously."

He shrugged. "I hardly ever take anything seriously, love. Except drinking contests."

She sighed. "It's like talking to a tree."

"Wow. Ben said the _exact_ same thing last week, except I believe he used 'mast' in stead of the wood from which it came. Is he teaching you these things?"

She didn't say anything, and he fell silent as well. They sat there for a few moments, underneath the tree as the sun warmed the ground beneath them, beckoning the tufts of grass and shrubs to rise up and announce the coming of spring. It was Shanks who finally broke the silence.

"You intrigue me," he said, simply.

Makino blinked, turning her surprised eyes to him. There was a wistful smile on his face.

"You have trouble understanding my reasoning for coming back, but I don't know how to make them more understandable," he explained. "I can't stop thinking about you, although it would probably be best, for you more than for myself. And as of late I seem to find myself...drawn to this place. As though I have some unfinished business here. I can't quite explain it."

He smiled. "You intrigue me, as you are – and I believe I've said this before – quite unlike any woman I have ever met."

She averted her eyes, fighting the blush that didn't seem to want to go away, and his smile widened. "Ah, and there you go, turning your head away. That was a compliment, you know."

A smile tugged at her lips. "I know, I just have a hard time believing it."

He shook his head. "Impossible, aren't you? I'd have an easier time getting Ben to acknowledge my superior intellect."

Makino smiled wryly. "Ah, a feat if I ever saw one." She sighed, biting down on her bottom lip. "I just...cannot fathom _why_, Captain. The only time girls like me fascinate men like...well, _you_, are in novels. And those novels are undoubtedly written by women who _are_ girls like me, and are trying to compensate for their lack of...men. And...other things."

When she turned to him, she was greeted with a raised brow upon a scarred face. Shanks smirked. "Been carrying that one along for quite a while, hmm?"

Makino huffed, throwing her arms up. "Why am I even trying?"

He smirked. "Love, look at me. Makino."

She turned her head back. He poked her forehead, making her blink in surprise. "First of all, a profession does not make a person. At least not completely. If that was the case and all pirates were alike, you should be the one running here. And secondly," he smirked. The finger having poked her forehead traced down the bridge of her nose.

"I believe we've established that I am quite fond of you, regardless of whatever foolish ideas you have stored inside that head of yours."

A grin tug at his lips when she shyly averted her eyes. "You are a closet adventurer – yet satisfied with your life here, in this 'backwater port', as you call it. You are a mother, despite your young age, and the sole owner of an establishment. And yet," his hand drifted down to graze her jaw again, and she shivered. He smiled.

"And yet you are _young. _Which is a sign of strength, I believe. A lesser woman would bear signs of such a life."

Her heart skipped a beat at that, and she was sure her cheeks were _glowing _red by now. "Planning on flattering me into submission, Captain?" she murmured. He grinned.

"Wasn't planning on it, no. If I were, I'd mention how gorgeous you...ah, didn't think that blush could get any deeper."

She slapped at his arm, before catching his wrist where his hand now held her chin, curling her fingers around it and tracing the scar running diagonally down his forearm.

"I'm being silly," she said.

"And difficult."

She squeezed his wrist warningly, her brows furrowing in mock anger. "Watch it, Captain. Or I'm closing the bar early tonight."

He smiled charmingly, before letting his hand drop, twisting it to catch her own and intertwining their fingers. She watched, mesmerized at the simple gesture that spoke volumes.

"I shouldn't have to tell you to stop doubting yourself. I know you will, regardless, stubborn as you are. But," he gave her hand a squeeze. "I am here, believe it or not. And," he gave her a grin, his mischievous eyes twinkling.

"I never go to places I don't want to go."

And for the first time since meeting him, Makino managed to keep her eyes on his, rooted in place by the sheer sincerity in them. And for a moment, she was rendered speechless.

He smirked. "Flattered into submission yet?"

She laughed – _really_ laughed – at that, shaking her head, before leaning forward to place a kiss on his lips. It was chaste, careful at first – the memories of the fiasco from three months ago still present at the back of her mind – but it was fitting.

"Yes, Captain. I believe you finally succeeded," she murmured with a shy smile.

His grin was positively contagious, and her heart skipped yet another beat in her chest _(was that healthy?) _as her stomach fluttered wildly with butterflies, and she wondered briefly how she had lived without this feeling all her life.

He grinned. "And they say flattery will get you nowhere."

She smacked his chest. "Don't go getting any ideas, now."

The feral glint in his eyes was there for less than a second, but she caught it, and shivered, and suddenly the flutter in her stomach was replaced with something else. A different feeling – unrecognizable, but...not entirely unpleasant.

Mistaking her trembling for the cold, Shanks began to rise, pulling her up effortlessly.

"Time to get you inside before you catch a cold."

She raised a brow at that. "The man who wears sandals and capris in winter suggests I might get sick," she quipped. He smirked.

"Indeed. Now are you going to gloat over the irony, or are you going to take my suggestion to heart?"

She chuckled, "Such a mother-hen."

He looked aghast, shaking his head. "And thus my compliments are rewarded."

She smiled mischievously, giving his hand a squeeze before she released it, and began the trek down towards the tavern, a light spring in her step.

"Coming, Captain?" she called, eyes alight in the afternoon sun as she regarded him from across the hill. He smiled, and the feeling from before came rushing back, making her knees weak and a burning sensation simmer in the pit of her stomach. She could feel the insecurities grasp her heart once again under that gaze, and she bit her lip. And not for the first time in the few months that had passed since her Mistress' passing, did Makino find herself craving the older woman's advice. Because she was threading on unknown territory – dangerous, thrilling and downright terrifying with all its promises and secrets.

And she hadn't the faintest idea how to proceed.

* * *

AN: Whoever does, in situations like these?


	9. venture off the beaten page

AN: In which things get serious...if you know what I mean, wink-wink-nudge-nudge. Though nothing explicit - rated T, as you know.

Disclaimer: One Piece belongs to Eichiiro Oda.

* * *

**Chapter IX **

The bathroom floor was cold.

Then again, it had always been cold, hadn't it? It had been a great source of annoyance in her younger years, and whenever she'd taken a bath, she'd pile towels on the freezing tiles so she could get across without actually having to step on them with her bare feet. Emiko had rolled her eyes more than once at her behavior, but had always let her do as she pleased.

Curling her bare toes, Makino pulled her legs to her chest, burying her face in her knees and shutting her eyes tightly.

She honestly couldn't remember the last time she'd been this embarrassed. And that included that one time in her youth when her skirt had gotten caught in the door of the local grocery store and _ripped_, right in front of the entire village. She'd been embarrassed then, sure! So much in fact, that she was pretty sure she'd burst into tears.

That, although enough to make her wince at the mere thought of it, didn't even come close to what she was feeling _now_.

Because back then, it had been but a few moments of embarrassment for her, along with another few moments of entertainment for the villagers as she'd tried getting back to the bar without exposing herself completely, but it had passed rather quickly. It was a trivial occurrence, and by the next day, hardly anyone spoke about it, and some had even forgotten it had happened at all.

She wasn't entirely sure this would pass quite as quickly.

_Warm hands slid down her neck, her shoulders...calloused palms ghosting along the skin of her collarbones, pulling a moan from her lips. Her own hands were far less successful, clumsy and shaking in their hesitant exploration of the broad expanse of skin and crisp white material. She shivered, fingers clenching together in a desperate attempt to stifle her nervousness, the feeling pushing itself upwards to lodge itself in the back of her throat..._

She knew she had been more than a little tipsy last night – the throbbing between her eyes that had greeted her with the sun this morning was testament to that – and she probably should have known better, all the speeches from her late caretaker taken into consideration. Don't drink with the customers. Smile and laugh and play along, but _don't share drinks with them_. Such behavior was only going to cause trouble for her, and Makino knew this as well as she knew how to mix a proper drink.

But the mood had been good. The common room bustling with laughter and tavern songs, the bawdy lyrics rising above the din in drunken tunes, and she had been well on her way of being charmed out of her socks by the handsome redhead that had sauntered into her tavern and her life and turned the latter completely on its head. She couldn't remember when she'd taken that first sip, but what she _could_ remember was the effects and the repercussions. Eyes dilated and cheeks flushed red – partly from the liquor, and partly from the borderline inappropriate yet dangerously flattering comments that so smoothly escaped his lips, as though he delivered them on a daily basis. And he did, didn't he? But unfortunately, the sensible part of her that usually reared her ugly head and made most of her decisions was silenced sometime after her third glass – she remembered barely being able to feel her own tongue at that point, let alone put a name to whatever she'd filled her mug with – and along with that sense, her judgment and propriety had apparently disappeared as well.

_And any inhibitions I might have had, too, _she reminded herself with a soft whine, clenching her eyes tighter to block out the memories.

She couldn't remember exactly who had made the first move, but in the end, it didn't really matter, although she feared it might have been her. And she didn't really _want_ to think about the words that had tumbled off her tongue prior to her inappropriate actions, which, in turn, had ended in a tangled mess of limbs and hungry kisses in her apartments above the tavern.

_Warm hands wrapped around the wrists of her own trembling ones, rough thumbs passing over the sensitive skin above her pulse. Her heart was threatening to break through her chest, and she clenched her eyes shut, trying to stop the tears from escaping. She was so very nervous._

_Lips brushed her jawline, then her neck, right below her ear, and her knees just about fell out from beneath her. Braced against his chest, she tried to still her breathing, her thundering heartbeat, to stop sounding like she was about to pass out...even though it felt as though she was about to do just that. _

"_Makino." _

And it was in the midst of those heated kisses and caresses in the dark, of mumbles and murmurs and moans that were so terrifyingly unfamiliar to her, that she'd found herself wondering if the look he had given her – the dark, hungry gaze that both frightened her and excited her simultaneously, and that made it look as though he had never seen someone quite like her – had been given to many foolish village girls before her.

The thought hadn't sat well with her at the time, and despite her inebriation, she'd hesitated more than once – something that hadn't gone unnoticed by the man himself.

"_Love, you're shaking." _

"_I'm fine. Really, I'm just.." She looked down, resting her forehead against his chest. Her breathing was ragged, and the knot in her stomach was clenching so tightly she thought she might throw up. The nervousness wouldn't go away, and paired with the uncertainty that had plagued her since she'd met the man before her, the combination felt as though it was going to be her undoing. Anything she had ever read about a moment like this had fled her mind the moment he'd slid his hands beneath her shirt, officially overstepping whatever line had been drawn between them since the beginning of their relationship, and she had no idea how to proceed._

Clenching her eyes even tighter, Makino rubbed at her temples, cheeks burning at the memory of how her hands had fumbled, of the tears that had without her permission slipped from her eyes. He'd noticed – it had been impossible _not to_, with how close had been standing. And she hadn't been able to bear the look in his eyes – the flash of concern that he had stepped too far. Which he hadn't. It had been her fault for even initiating such a moment, after all, and she'd _wanted_ it...it was just...

She'd been so _scared._

But that wasn't the worst part. Far from it. The worst, most embarrassing part, was having him pull away.

_The thumbs that had been caressing her wrists were suddenly on her cheeks, wiping away the tears that had begun to slide down them. Embarrassment flared in the pit of her stomach, and she ducked her head, fitfully attempting to hide herself. A hand grasped her chin then, tilting her head so she would look at him, and she felt fresh tears burn in her eyes. _

_She hadn't expected the kiss to her temple, or the softly voiced apology ghosting her ear, but it happened, and then he was pulling away, a rueful smile on his scarred face, and before she could process what had transpired, the door to her bedroom was clicking shut behind him, his soft footfalls echoing down the hall. The familiarity of it all slammed into her like a tidal wave, and she staggered slightly, tears blurring her vision as words echoed in her head. _

_'Take care, love.' _

_She fell to her knees only when the sound of the bat-wing doors swinging softly in his wake alerted her of his departure. _

The tiles were _cold_. The thought struck her again, and she wiggled her toes. Emotions were raging within her – everything from embarrassment to lust to regret, but mostly regret. She sighed. She was a mess. A mess who couldn't even decide what she regretted the most; fueling the fire that had been raging between them, or dousing it with water when it got too hot.

Rubbing at her eyes, Makino swore under her breath. _Stupid, stupid girl. Letting yourself be enchanted, and then pulling away when it gets too serious. So he has experience! You can't change the fact that you __**don't**__ unless you do something about it!_

She sighed, her lower lip poking out as she considered her own thoughts. It _did_ bother her, that he seemed to know what he was doing and then doing so without much effort, when all she could do was hesitate when she should be eagerly accepting his attentions. She wanted to accept them – she _knew_ she did. There was no denying, nor ignoring for that matter, the simmering warmth in the pit of her stomach or the shiver of anticipation at the thought of his hands on her...

"_Prude or not, Makino, ye're still a girl. Nay, a woman now. And ya think I don't remember what went through my own head at yer age?"_

Suzume's gnarled old voice echoed through her head, and she shook it to clear it of the thoughts she had been having. Sighing, she rested her chin on her knees pitifully. She was a fool. A fool who knew what she wanted but was too much of a coward to get it.

_I wonder what he's thinking, _she thought, a frown pulling her brows together as she chewed absently on her bottom lip. She shook her head again. She didn't need to ask herself that. If all her other actions hadn't convinced him of her young age and ridiculous insecurities, then this had to have spelled it out rather clearly. And despite his words from earlier, she doubted he had any more patience left to deal with her after this. She couldn't phantom why he would stick around after her embarrassing display the night before. What man in his right mind would want such a conflicted, insecure woman when there were probably a handful of more confident ones just waiting at the next port? Why-

A soft rap on the door to the bathroom nearly had her jumping out of her skin, and her heart just about stopped dead in her chest as her reeling mind considered the possibilities, before settling into a steady pace again as the most obvious one became clear. _Probably just Suzume come to check up on me. I should have been downstairs hours ago, and she always stops by before opening ti- _

"I sure hope you haven't gone off and died in there."

She blinked, the words and the voice registering in her ears. The warmly amused baritone was a far cry from Suzume's harsh tones, and her mouth parted in surprise as realization hit her like a ton of bricks. _What-?_

"You know, love. Speaking up to prove my statement wrong might placate my mind a little. Or do I have to break down the door to make sure you're alright? It would be fantastically heroic and undoubtedly very, very impressive on my part, but I doubt you'll appreciate having to replace it afterwards," the voice continued, still amused, and despite the embarrassment she was feeling, she couldn't stop the smile from tugging at the corners of her lips at his attempt at lightening her mood.

"No heroic gesture necessary, Captain," she spoke up finally, stubbornly keeping her voice from trembling. She was not going to let her embarrassment be her undoing. Damn her if she was.

There was a smile in his voice as he spoke, "Good. I was having doubts there for a moment, especially when I came in and there was no sign of neither you nor the mop you're usually wiping the floor with at this hour."

Again, she smiled despite herself. It would appear Suzume was not the only one who had picked up on her habits and routines.

Heaving a small sigh, she bit her lip, wondering whether or not to invite him in. One look at her naked legs, and the too-short t-shirt she used to sleep in had her deciding against it, although her traitorous mind had already taken that possibility into consideration, and was creating very vivid images of what could transpire if she _did_ let him in, no doubt fueled by the thoughts she had been having only moments before, of the light pressure against that spot on her neck she hadn't known was so sensitive...

"Makino?"

Shaking her head to snap out of her reverie, she addressed the man behind the door. "I'm not entirely decent at the moment, and my clothes are in my room, so if you wouldn't mind-"

The abrupt click of the doorknob and the opening of the door had her eyes widening to the size of saucers, and a squeak of surprise hitched in her throat as she fumbled to cover herself with..._nothing_, because the nearest towel – which was too small to hide anything, really – was slung across the tub on the other side of the room from her. She was about to snap at him and demand what the _hell_ he thought he was doing, when she was startled further by something flying at her from the open doorway, smacking into her and turning her world completely dark for a moment as the black – and in her opinion tent-sized – piece of cloth settled over her head.

Fumbling with the familiar fabric, she pulled it off her head, ruffling her already sleep-mussed hair. Wide eyes blinked in surprise as she took in the cloak now in her hands, the excess fabric pooling over her lower body and onto the tiled floor, hiding her naked legs, before shifting to the man leaning against the doorway. There was a smile on his lips as he took her in, sitting by the wall, now drowned in the dark fabric he usually wore around his shoulders, her small toes sticking out from where the hem grazed the floor. Her mouth kept working, but nothing came out.

"Don't look so scandalized. You're decent now, aren't you?"

Her cheeks flared with colour, and he grinned as her brows furrowed. "Amused, are you?"

"Tremendously," came his easy reply, and the corners of his eyes crinkled with said amusement. Makino huffed, hands arranging the fabric around her to make sure she was covered completely, tangling them in the dark material to keep them from going to her hair in a feeble attempt at straightening her bedhead. This was _not_ the time for vanity!

"What are you doing here?" The question was voiced warily, as she fought to remain nonchalant – an act further complicated by the dark eyes regarding her from the open doorway. It was difficult to concentrate with those eyes on her, especially considering her half-dressed, unkempt state.

He cocked his head, eyes twinkling. "Would you believe me if I said I needed to use the bathroom?"

The look on her face clearly told him she found no humor in his joke, and he straightened, his expression turning serious. "I was looking for you, unsurprisingly. I was concerned about the other night, and when I couldn't find you, I could only assume my concerns were valid."

She looked away, a light blush ghosting her cheeks at his worry. "I'm fine."

"Hmm, yes. That's why you've stationed yourself in the bathroom in the middle of the afternoon?"

Her eyes snapped to his, her glare piercing. "I happen to like the bathroom. It's a good room to think."

"...the floor is freezing."

She ignored him. "Well, you've found me, and I'm fine. Now...can you go? I'm not getting up until you leave."

He raised a brow at that, and, completely ignoring her request, stepped fully inside and closed the door behind him. And before she could muster up the voice to protest, he had slid down to sit against the door opposite her. A grimace pulled at his features as he settled onto the cold tiles.

"Captain-"

He shook his head, cutting her off. "Nope, me first." She gaped, and was about to speak again when he beat her to it,

"When I left last night, I almost went back twice. No...three times. The first was when I had taken two steps out of the bar, and the second when I'd gotten back to the ship. And the third was once I'd gotten _on_ the ship, and Ben gave me a look that asked me what the hell I was doing there. And I really don't think he bought whatever excuse I gave him at the time, but the point is, I can't honestly say walking out like that was the most brilliant thing I've ever done. However, I can't be entirely sure until I hear it from you." He paused, eyes locking onto hers and holding her gaze, before continuing,

"Now, I ask _you: _should I have come back?"

Makino was silent as she stared at him from across the small space, stunned speechless by his admission. She'd considered chasing after him at the time, _several_ times in fact, but she'd never considered the thought of _him_ turning and coming back. Something had just seemed...final, about his departure, as though it had sealed something between them. Ended something. It had been _horrible_, and his words now about his own conflicting emotions had hope soaring within her, fluttering against her ribcage and slowly unfurling the knot in her stomach.

She opened her mouth, and closed it. Her eyes closed as well as a smile pulled on her lips, and her shoulders shook a little as the hilarity of the situation settled within her. Two grown people, a pirate and a barmaid, sitting on the floor of a _bathroom_ of all places, discussing their insecurities.

It looked like she wasn't the only fool in this mess they'd gotten themselves into.

"I wanted to chase you down, if that's any indication of what I think," she said finally, raising her eyes to his. He looked surprised, before a smile tugged at his lips. She heaved a sigh. "I was a fool, a victim of my own insecurities. Insecurities you'd tried to placate only _yesterday_, and I..." she trailed off, the words eluding her. She closed her mouth, frowning.

"If it's any consolation," he began then, breaking the silence that followed her words. "I had no idea what I was doing, either."

Makino blinked, startled. "But you-"

"It's one thing when it's a face with no name. But with you..." He shrugged. She blushed again, memories assaulting her inner vision, and averted her eyes. She didn't need to look at him to know a smirk had settled on his lips.

"My, what thoughts are we having now, Miss Makino? Pleasant ones, I hope?"

She glared at him, although the blush didn't lessen. "This is _your_ fault, you know," she said, hands gripping the material covering the lower part of her body. "I didn't..._consider_ these things before you showed up."

The grin on his face was decidedly boyish, and she smiled despite herself, turning her eyes to her cold toes, before pulling them beneath the rough material of his cloak. Silence settled in the cold bathroom, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

"It's your move," he said then, pulling her eyes back to his. Makino blinked, brows dipping slightly as his words failed to register. He smiled. "Your insecurities, although unnecessary, are strangely endearing, but I won't overstep any boundaries between us," he declared, eyes twinkling.

"Unless, of course, you yourself desire me to do so," he added, and there was a distinct deepening of his voice at the last part, sending a violent shiver racing down her spine at the hidden promises that came with that statement.

"It's your choice, love, and you choose the pace. Know _that_, if anything."

She felt the urge to chew on her bottom lip, feeling a tumble of emotions roil within her. It should have been simple – she would choose if she was ready, when she was ready. It was up to her.

Why then, did that not placate her mind?

"Does...does it sound silly, if...I say I don't exactly know what I want?" she asked then, softly. His smile held the warmth she had begun to associate with him, and his eyes had that mischievous twinkle that told her he was more than willing to help her figure out just exactly it was that she wanted. She felt a blush spread all the way down her neck to her collarbones, and had to fight to keep from shyly averting her eyes. What was it about this man that always succeeded in reducing her to a blushing mess of girlish giggles?

She shook her head, a smile playing on her lips, noting briefly how the bathroom didn't feel quite so cold anymore, and that any lingering embarrassment or fear rejection that had so plagued her thoughts only minutes before were now only ghosts at the very back of her mind. Gripping the fabric pooling around her, she rose to her feet, tugging it around her form to cover herself. Looking down at herself, she snorted in a distinctly unladylike fashion, turning her eyes to his.

"I look absolutely ridiculous."

His laughter bounced off the walls of the small room, as he rose to stand before her. "Well, it's a cloak, not a skirt, but I can't say _ridiculous_ is amongst the words that springs to mind." His hand brushed the tips of her hair, loose from it's usual scarf, and he tucked it gently behind her ear. There was that deepening of his voice again, and the implications had her stomach doing flip-flops, her heart thundering against her ribs. The air seemed to simmer around them as they stood there, gazes locked, and she could feel a string of emotions war within her, struggling for control. The urge to throw herself at him where he stood held back by that familiar twinge of fear and uncertainty. The giddy happiness his mere presence provoked barely restrained by the cooler, sensible part of her that told her to _slow down_ before the boundaries he'd spoken of vanished completely and his words spurned her into doing something she wasn't sure she was ready to do.

He stepped away then, breaking whatever spell had settled over her, and holding the door to the hallway open. Makino padded outside on bare feet, his cloak clutched around her lower body, intent on finding _real_ clothes to cover herself before she gave into her urges and dropped the material completely, even if it was just to gauge his reaction.

The thought had her blushing even more, and mentally shaking her head furiously. Emiko had always said her curiosity would get her into trouble one day, and there was no denying the truth in those words.

_Not yet, though,_ she thought as she watched him disappear downstairs, a promise of locating some food in her larder drifting back to her as she heard him descend the stairs. She took a deep breath, redirecting her mind from the thought of those broad shoulders now that they weren't covered by the cloak she had wrapped around her middle.

Not yet, but something told her it wouldn't be long before her curiosity paired up with her desire and spurned her into action. First though, she needed some questions answered about few things.

And she knew just the person to ask.

* * *

AN: I wonder who, *sly smile*.


	10. tender, those dog-eared moments

AN: You all knew this was coming. Still nothing remotely explicit, though. Oh, but there's an embarrassing amount of cheesiness.

Disclaimer: One Piece belongs to Eichiiro Oda.

* * *

**Chapter X **

"What's with that look?"

Makino fought to keep her smile innocent, biting her lip as she leaned her weight on the counter. A pale hand pushed a newly polished glass forward, the dark amber liquid swirling inside as it slid across the bartop. A frizzled gray brow raised suspiciously at the offered drink, before the calculating eyes beneath settled on the barmaid herself. Suzume frowned, before a smirk pulled at her lips, slowly stretching into a decidedly feral grin. Makino almost contemplated snatching the glass back and making a mad dash for the door, but a gnarled hand settled over hers, keeping her in place.

"Oh, so it's finally come to this, has it?" the old woman asked, her tone suggesting it was something she'd been expecting. Makino glared.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Suzume-baasan," she said, trying feebly to slip her hand free of the older woman's grip, and failing. Her plan had been to casually coax the answers out of the woman after getting a few glasses of potent alcohol in her system, loosening her tongue and thus, her language and whatever sense of propriety still existed in the eccentric old maid. However, the old hag was apparently far more attentive than she would have guessed, and her ploy had obviously been discovered.

And by the grin on Suzume's face, Makino was going to hear about it.

"Ya know, I was wondering when ya were going to come, after that last conversation of ours," she mused, removing her hand from Makino's to grasp the glass, swirling it languidly before taking a sip. Her eyes twinkled with the same childlike mischief Makino regularly saw in the eyes of the man who was, indirectly or not, the cause of her current predicament.

"Again," Makino said, eyes narrowing in an last attempt at keeping at least some of her remaining dignity, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Suzume snorted, downing the drink and placing the glass down, motioning silently that she wanted another. Makino heaved a sigh, wondering briefly what she had gotten herself into, and perhaps she should have thought this through a little better, before refilling the glass and sliding it across the counter. Suzume grinned, accepting it and taking another sip. Makino resisted the urge to roll her eyes. _So much for having a drinking problem... _

"So," she said, settling the glass back down again, and fixing her sharp eyes on the young barmaid. "What do ya want ta know?"

Fighting to keep the sudden blush off her face – and damn it, couldn't she ever keep her expression neutral? – Makino swallowed. "Um..."

And suddenly, every possible question she'd thought about asking, fled her mind.

Suzume smirked. "Well? Go on, girl, if ye have questions, ask 'em!"

Makino huffed. "It's not that simple!"

"Sure it is! You have a question, ask it. If I know the answer," her eyes twinkled, and her grin looked ferocious, "which I more than likely _will_, given the nature of the questions, I'll give you the best advice I have."

Rubbing her temples, Makino felt helplessness tug at her heartstrings. There was no way she was going to get away from this conversation without looking like a fool – or at least feeling like one. And she doubted the old woman was ever going to stop teasing her after this.

"Oh, don't look so reluctant, brat. Who did ya think Emiko came to in her time, hmm? Ye're not the first to come to this old lady for answers, let me tell ya." A teasing grin pulled at the corners of her lips, and Makino felt her stomach drop.

"'Course, Emiko was just shy of sixteen when she started askin'. Well, can't help the fact that ya turned into such a prude, Ma-chan. Ye're here now, at least. I was beginning ta worry about ya."

Makino sighed. "Wonderful," she murmured. _Why do I feel like I'm going to regret this? _When she turned her eyes back to Suzume, the old woman was regarding her with a distinctly calculating look.

"So, how far have ya gone?"

Makino almost laughed. _No beating around the bush, hmm, Suzume-baasan? No surprises there. _

"Well? Come on, girl, don't be shy. No need ta sugarcoat it, either. I've heard things so vulgar, it'd give a gal like you nightmares."

_How lovely, _Makino thought, shaking her head. "There's been...kissing." The raised brow was enough to make her roll her eyes. "Not just kissing. Kiss_ing_!"

Still the raised brow. Makino fought the urge to tear at her hair. This was so humiliating!

"Alright, I'll make this simple," Suzume said, bringing the girl's attention to herself again. "Are we talking other places than the usual?" At the blush Makino knew was coating her cheeks, the old woman grinned fiercely.

"Well, that answers that question, I guess. Now, ya do realize ya need to remove some clothes for it ta get serious, hmm? 'Course, ya don't need to always remove everythin', if ye've got little time and such, but usually, that's how it goes."

Makino nodded almost absently, her blush deepening as memories resurfaced. "I wouldn't say..._removal_, more like...rearranging, and...disregarding." Her voice was an embarrassingly high pitch by now, and she cursed herself for the prudish behavior she so desperately wanted to deny.

Suzume's grin never faltered. "Well, that's _something_, at the very least. Good fer you, girl! Didn't think ya had it in ya!"

Makino scowled. "Suzume-san."

"Yes, yes. Please continue. What do ya want to know?" Her brows furrowed suddenly. "Wait...ya do know the basics, right? Can't have read all those romance novels and be in the complete dark, can ya? And don't come telling me those things are purely innocent, either. I've read some of 'em myself, as you know."

Makino smiled shyly, looking down. "I know the basics...just...I don't really know...where do you put your hands?"

The bellow of laughter that escaped the old woman before her had her cheeks burning again, and she clutched the rag in her hands tightly. "Suzume-san!"

Suzume wiped her tears, grinning in good humor. "Apologies, Ma-chan, but I should have known you'd make such a simple thing complicated in that head of yours."

Makino scowled, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's..." she huffed, looking away. "It's...not as _simple _as you make it sound."

Suzume raised a brow. "Oh? I think it's quite simple. Ya put them where ya want to." That dangerous gleam was back in her eyes. "With the redhead, that ought to be quite a few places. I suggest the bum, as a personal favourite. But the shoulders are a good place ta start. 'Specially nice and broad ones like his."

Makino smiled slightly to herself, hands fidgeting with the rag as images flashed before her eyes. Unfortunately, this was one of those situations where saying one was going to do something and then _doing_ just that, was two completely different things.

Suzume, on the other hand, was still talking, unaware of the barmaid's inner turmoil. "'Course, man's a bit tall, ain't he? Could cause slight trouble, but ya should do fine. It gets easier once the clothes start coming off," she assured the girl. "You'll have somethin' ta occupy those hands of yours with, then, won't ya?"

Makino bit her lip, considering. "Yes... but-"

"What stopped ya last time?"

She blinked, a frown pulling her brows down. "What?"

Suzume gave her an exasperated look, as though telling her she should try to keep up. "I assume the reason ye're comin' ta me fer this, is because somethin' went wrong the last time. Ya backed off, or he backed off, but knowing you, Ma-chan, I'll make a wager you were the one doing the backin' off."

She was about to protest and say _no_, he was the one who had pulled away, but stopped herself, as it was in fact she who had hesitated enough to make him do just that. She sighed, searching for the right words.

"I was...scared, about a lot of things." Her cheeks were surely burning by now, she knew. "And...I...hesitated. A lot."

The snort didn't surprise her. In fact, she'd been expecting it. Suzume downed the remainder of her glass' contents before placing it down, and Makino didn't need to look up to know she was being watched.

"What did he have to say about it?"

Makino blinked, before shifting her eyes to the window, biting her lip from smiling like the girl she was. "That it was up to me."

The elderly woman hummed thoughtfully. "Interesting. And from a pirate, too," she murmured, a smile tugging at her lips as her gaze settled on something Makino couldn't see. "A good man, that."

"Suzume-san?"

Seeming to snap out of her reverie, the old woman blinked, her eyes settling on Makino again. "What?"

Makino shook her head. "Nothing. I just...when would you say the right moment would be?"

Suzume didn't hesitate. "Every moment is the right moment, as long as there's no spectators. Doubt ye're into that sorta thing, unless you've been holdin' out on this old woman."

Makino was still gaping when the old woman in question burst out laughing, the sound a harsh and familiar mixture of gravel and sandpaper. "Kidding, girl! Wipe that scandalized look off yer face and learn to take a joke!"

Makino huffed. "Not amused, Suzume-_baasan_. I was being serious."

Suzume was still grinning, wiping at her eyes. "I know, girl. I know. Bless ya and yer innocent heart."

Makino was about to protest, when the older woman cut her off. "You'll know," she said.

Makino blinked. "What?"

Suzume shrugged. "When the moment comes – the _right_ one – you'll know."

"Now," she said, rising from her chair and sliding the empty glass across the counter. "Gotta quit while the game's good. Used ta have a problem, ya know. Well, see ya around, brat, granted I don't drop dead tomorrow."

"Suzume-san!"

She grinned. "What? Can't get much older than this. 'Sides, told ya I'd go peacefully with a man like yours around. Now ya just gotta _keep_ him around, hmm? Fer me, if anythin'."

Makino shook her head. "You're impossible."

"Haven't claimed otherwise, doll. Now go gather up some courage fer this old woman and for the love of yer poor old mistress, _get laid_."

Ignoring the horrified look on the young woman's face, and smirking at the blush now stretching all the way down to her collarbones, Suzume proceeded to shuffle out of the tavern, muttering under her breath about aching backs and silly young girls. Makino watched her go, shaking her head at the old woman's antics. Had she gotten _anything_ even remotely useful out of this conversation?

"_You'll know."_

She frowned. Well, it was _that_, but what good did that do her? _How_ would she know? When?

Grumbling under her breath, she picked up the glass to have it cleaned. She couldn't have felt it yet, that was for sure. Not that she had any idea what she was supposed to feel, but she was sure the disaster she had sworn never to think or speak of again hadn't been the right moment. She'd been as drunk as she could ever remember being in her short two decades, and unable to place her hands right. With such an utterly failed attempt, though, the second could only be an improvement, and would hopefully not be as embarrassing as she feared.

...right?

She resisted the urge to tear at her hair. The fact that she was acting like a blindly smitten teenager about the entire ordeal was enough to make her want to bang her head repeatedly against the nearest wall. She was determined to handle it as a grown woman, damn it! She suffered from no illusions that it'd be perfect, her being who she was. She just hoped she really would know when the right moment came, and not let it pass her by.

Gods knew, with her experience, she wouldn't be surprised if it did.

* * *

In retrospect, it could have gone worse.

Really, compared to what _could_ have happened – all the possible scenarios having run through her head at least once both before and after – it was a success. Sort of.

In all her books – at least, all those with borderline inappropriate to downright vulgar material - the moment in which the main character let herself be seduced into oblivion by whatever handsome captain, lord, wizard, highwayman or stable boy the author had introduced her to, or the moment in which she took matters into her own hands, always occurred at night. Or during a fierce storm. Or both.

So that the moment it should strike _her_ as being the right one – the one she had been searching for since that day in her bathroom – happened to be in the early post-dawn light on a sunny, cloudless day, struck her as incredibly strange.

But then again, this was her life. Not a romance novel.

She didn't know what she'd expected, really. All she knew was what she had read in her books, and those moments were, as she'd had pointed out to her several times throughout her life, overly exaggerated and glorified. But despite all her warnings, a part of her had always imagined there would be things like candles, and...flowing curtains of some kind, and with a raging storm or pale moonlight outside her bedroom window.

Never mind the fact that her own curtains were anything _but_ long and flowing, and that the moon once up, was rarely visible from her room's only window.

Still, she'd had a somewhat...decorative view on how things were going to go down. It involved a bed, at the very least. As any sensible girl with an overactive imagination sometimes bordering on the naughty, that was where she'd always imagined it would happen. It was what she'd expected.

Flat on her back behind the bar, was not.

But it couldn't have been helped, really. She'd realize that more than once in the years to come. She'd been utterly unprepared for the onslaught that had hit her that sunny morning, standing at the bar and polishing her glasses.

It had been a shockingly ordinary day. He'd come in early, as he'd made a habit of doing in the days of their latest visit, and he'd simply sat there, offering quiet conversation in the early morning light. He'd worn his usual capris, and the white shirt she assumed he had an entire closet full of, and the signature cloak, loosely hanging off his shoulders. He'd washed his hair that morning; she could tell by its dampness and how some strands clung to his forehead. But there had been nothing unusual about their meeting or their chat.

Except for the unexpected, near overwhelming desire to chuck the glass in her hands, crawl across the bartop and kiss him senseless.

Which was what she did.

Sort of.

It hadn't been so much of her crawling and flinging herself, as that would no doubt have ended in disaster, much like that time at the docks some months past, where she'd attempted to kiss him. So no, she hadn't actually _crawled._ Her mind had helpfully presented her with an image of what _that_ action would lead to, and it didn't involve heated kisses as much as it involved a cast and a black eye.

So she'd done the one thing that had popped into her mind at the time – a though that, in the time following the event, would shock her at the sheer devious nature of it. She hadn't been aware she possessed such ideas, let alone the courage to pursue them.

But she did. And she had.

Which was why she now found herself kneeling behind the bar, surrounded by scattered pieces of glass and with her heart hammering a mile a minute in her chest, threatening to burst right through it.

"Makino?" Concern was evident in his voice, and she heard the shuffle of feet and fabric as he rose from his chair to come around to check on her. Blood thundered through her veins, echoing loudly in her ears, and she wondered briefly what the hell she was doing, when he was suddenly kneeling beside her, picking pieces of glass out of her hands to place atop the counter above them.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, voice a murmur as he turned her hands over to check for cuts. She was sure she'd stopped breathing at some point. "Love?" He was looking at her now, those dark eyes narrowed ever so slightly in concern, confusion shimmering in their depths. She swallowed.

She didn't hit his chin this time, nor did she manage to inflict any damage to either of their persons. In fact, it went smoothly, just as she'd imagined, _for once_. She wasn't entirely sure _what_ she was doing, of course, but her hands were on his cheeks, keeping his face still as she pressed her mouth to his without a hint of her usual shyness. She'd wanted to kiss him, wanted _him_, orchestrated an accident to do so, and it felt strangely _right_, sunny morning and lack of flowing curtains aside.

She was sure it was the relief that kick-started her heart again, and pushed air back into her lungs. The knee-weakening _relief_ when he accepted her advances without question, tugging her to him as a warm, calloused hand slipped around her neck to tangle in her hair. The kerchief she'd tied it up with fell shortly after, and with it, whatever inhibitions she'd thought she had before that moment.

The fact that they were behind the _bar_, into which anyone could venture at whim, hardly registered, and the thought to move upstairs didn't even cross her mind. It probably should have, all things considered. She'd always prided herself on being a sensible girl, and sensible girls considered such things, but it was increasingly difficult to be sensible with the lips that were now on that spot on her neck. And although hard against her back, the feel of old floorboards beneath her was a fleeting thought at the back of her mind as he shifted his weight against her, sending shivers racing across her skin and down her spine, and she almost lost herself completely right then and there. His hands were in her hair again, and suddenly her kerchief wasn't the only thing missing, and she couldn't fathom where his shirt had disappeared to – or _hers_, for that matter – but as he breathed her name against her skin she found it didn't matter. _She_ was saying things, too – his name, amongst incoherent mumbles lost in the occasional moan that escaped her lips, and she could feel his smile against the tingling skin of her shoulder.

And then it happened.

She hadn't heard him approach – would probably never have noticed, had the man above her not gone ramrod rigid, and the hand against her mouth startled her so much she let out an involuntary squeak of surprise.

"Ma-chan?"

Her eyes went as wide as they could at the voice, the softly spoken inquiry, and she knew that if the boy found them, Garp was going to kill her. And him. Brutally, in a fit of righteous grandfatherly rage. Shanks was completely silent, his hand still against her mouth as he seemed to wait for something. She could feel the pitter-patter of footsteps around the tavern reverberate softly beneath her, and she prayed to whatever greater force listening that Luffy would not think of looking behind the bar.

"Huh. Looks like Ma-chan forgot her shirt," the boy mumbled then, and the sheer innocence of the statement sent tears of laughter to her eyes, and her body shook as she desperately tried to stifle her giggles. Shanks grinned from above her, and her heart skipped a beat at the sight. His hair was in his face, falling into his eyes – dark and smoldering in light of their activities.

And then she found herself subject to that _look_ again – the one that made her feel like the only woman in the entire world, and suddenly she knew he hadn't given that look to anyone else. It was _her_ look. Hers, and no one else's, damn it, and she didn't care what anyone else thought about it. And then he was kissing her again, and life itself seemed to fade into the background, and she forgot about Garp and Luffy and repercussions and the future, because all that mattered was the man kissing her as though he'd never get enough. And as her hands traveled up his chest, encircling his neck and tugging at the fine hairs at the back of his head, she knew she'd never get enough of _him_.

It was clumsy when it finally happened, and she knew she'd treasure the memory with equal amount fondness as embarrassment, for despite her books and her chat with Suzume, she _still_ had no idea what she was doing. _He_ did, though, but the fact that had once bothered her more than anything seemed unimportant as large, steady hands grasped her trembling ones, squeezing them reassuringly, and she knew she'd remember that gesture for the rest of her life.

The pain was another thing she'd remember.

Nothing she'd ever heard or read in her books could have prepared her for it, and _curse_ her books, there was nothing glamorous about it, either! She cried out in surprise at the abrupt _pain _as unbidden tears sprung to her eyes, pooling in them and slipping down her temples as she clenched them shut, and suddenly she was all _too_ aware of the floorboards pressing into her back, his heavy weight against her and the stubble of his chin burning marks on her skin as he rested his face in the crook of her neck, kissing it lightly, but the kisses eluded her – the overwhelming pain dulling her senses completely. On top of the pain was, as always, embarrassment, and all of a sudden she was very much aware of her naked state, and she squirmed beneath him in a vain attempt to hide herself, to get away – _anything_ but embarrass herself further with her glaringly apparent lack of knowledge of what to do in this situation.

The sudden surge of pleasure – laced with the previous pain – took her by surprise then, and she gasped as her hands reached to steady herself against him. And as he pulled back to give her a reassuring smile, sympathy and concern swimming in his dark gaze, Makino _knew_ that this – _this_ was what she would remember most of all.

Of course, that wasn't to say the whole ordeal went smoothly from there.

It was a strange mix of a great many things – pain, _more_ pain, which dulled shortly after she'd thought she'd pass out from it, thank the heavens. She didn't make too many mistakes...at least she thought she didn't. Her back had to be an artwork of black and blue bruises by now, and her left hip had gone numb some time ago.

But that wasn't to say it was an entirely unpleasant experience, either. It was rather pleasant, actually, once she got over the fear and the insecurity and the pain and the fact that _she still didn't know where to put her hands. _

It was alright, after that. Really. More than alright. And she wanted to do it again, too.

The _problem_ occurred when the contented daze she'd slipped into faded off, the pleasant buzz clearing from her mind, and the fears and the insecurities came back with a vengeance, dragging her embarrassment with them and dousing her like a bucket of cold water.

_Really_ cold water.

"Makino."

She didn't say anything, keeping her nose buried in the hollow of his throat, wondering if she could pretend she hadn't heard him.

Unfortunately, her luck was out on that one. Ben had warned her the man was a persistent bastard.

"Love, you're worrying me here. What's wrong?"

"...it was awkward, wasn't it?"

She didn't know what she'd expected from that statement. Halfhearted denial. Agreement. Maybe both.

The bark of laughter, however, caught her by surprise, and she raised her face from where she'd been hiding it, mouth open as she prepared to ask him _what_ he was laughing at, because surely, this wasn't anything to laugh at, and-

The silly grin on his face had her words fleeing her mind faster than Luffy whenever Garp showed up in town, and she was rendered momentarily speechless at the sight.

"I've heard a great many things in my life, love, but that comment surely surpassed them all," he quipped, the grin tugging his lips further apart. She scowled, ducking her head, and, noticing her lack of clothing and, as some sort of twisted chain-reaction, _his_ lack of clothing, and suddenly the courage that had fueled her previous actions found it appropriate to run away to hide somewhere at the very back of her mind, pushing her insecurities to the front to deal with what she'd gotten herself into.

"Silly girl," the murmur was an oddly comforting reverberation from where she was pressed, but before she could hide herself further, she was no longer looking at his throat, but his eyes, her chin held firmly by the hand not curled around her waist.

"Thought we went over this," he chided almost playfully, and she blushed at the sight of those eyes, clenching her own shut.

A kiss between her brows had them fluttering open again, to the sight of a smile that had some of her fears fleeing to whatever dark corners of her mind her courage was hiding in, and she felt some of the tension escape her tense shoulders. She didn't say anything, though – didn't think she had the voice to do so. And for a moment, neither did he.

Finally, she sighed, averting her eyes to the skin of his throat. You couldn't win a staring contest against eyes like that. It just wasn't done.

"What do you see in me, really?" she asked then, shaking her head as a nervous chuckle escaped her. Bringing her hands up, she rubbed at her face. "Gods, it's like I want to laugh at myself sometimes!"

The hand that had held her chin reached out to brush her bangs away from her face, and she parted her fingers to look through them. He was looking at her with an expression of utter contentment, tinged with what she thought was barely restrained amusement.

"I'm a fool."

"You're young."

"It's the same, isn't it?"

He smirked. "Old men can be fools, too. You are no fool. Gorgeous in everything you do and completely unaware of it, but no fool."

She chewed on her bottom lip. "I don't see what you do, apparently."

He smirked. "No, you don't. But while we're on this subject of looks, need I remind you that I carry more scars that you'll have in fifty lifetimes?"

She snorted. "You're rugged; there's a difference," she pointed out. He laughed out loud at that, the sound making her stomach flutter pleasantly, before he caught her around the waist with his free hand, pulling her closer and eliciting a small yelp from her. She shuddered against his skin, and he grinned.

"You have no idea what you do to me, do you?"

Her brows raised. "The feeling's mutual, Captain."

"Ah, we finally agree on something!"

She smiled, looking between them. "I still feel like a fool," she muttered.

"Then that makes two of us. Although in this case, I'm the bigger fool, as I so blindly fell into your clever trap."

She felt the tops of her cheeks flare with colour, and tried to hide the smile that always gave her away when she attempted to lie her way out of things. "Trap? I don't know what you're talking about."

The hands pinching her waist had her squealing with laughter, and he smirked at her reaction, leaning his head close to her ear as he spoke, "I haven't seen you drop a glass since that ordeal with the socks," he said. "I applaud it, actually. Quite devious, if I do say so myself. Worthy of a pirate, even."

Keeping the silly grin off her face had become a losing battle. "I persist, sir, that I don't know what you're talking about," she quipped smartly, shrieking with laughter again when his hands skimmed the skin of her stomach, to that particularly sensitive spot below her ribs. He grinned into her neck.

"Siren," he muttered against her skin, before pulling back to catch her lips with his, his hands once again brushing across her stomach.

And as her shrieks of laughter echoed throughout the empty tavern, no doubt attracting the attention of nearby village-folk, but at this point, her inhibitions truly were long gone and she found she truly didn't _care_ – Makino realized that although not ideal by the standards of her favourite authors, the experience itself far surpassed anything she had ever heard or read about.

Because this was not a story. Not ideal and certainly not perfection. His appearance in her life was like a scene out of her favourite novels, true, but what had happened afterwards could not even hope to compare. The fool of a man wrapped around her was _real_, with all his scars and witty comments and persistent nature.

And for her, that was more than enough.

* * *

AN: The cheesiness kill you yet?


	11. the gilded edges of your promise

AN: What's this?! An update – after over _two_ _years?! _I should be flogged for my insolence, but I hope you like it, nonetheless, if anyone is still reading this thing, that is. A massive writer's block has been eating at my soul after my muse left me two years ago, but I would very much like to stress that although it's been discontinued, **I have not abandoned this story.** For those of you willing to wait, I will endeavour to earn your patience and give you more chapters. Also, a huge THANK YOU for feedback on this, especially from those of you who've recently read it and reviewed despite the fact that I haven't updated in two years. YOU ARE GOLD.

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or its characters – Eichiiro Oda does.

* * *

**Chapter XI**

In the days that followed, her smile was hard to remove.

Of course, the entire village had to know something had happened, but she found she couldn't care. For one, she was much too giddy to give a damn, and was loath to ruin her happiness by taking notice of the murmurs that followed her wherever she went. So on her way to the local grocers or the fabric shop, Makino turned her ears away, refusing to let their gossip settle in her mind to fester. She'd lived all her life listening to the whispered musings about her Mistress, and it looked like she was well on her way in the same direction. Some were probably shaking their heads at her misfortune – or her lack of sense, knowing full well what happened to Emiko – but Makino's spirits were simply too high for her to be let down by silly village mutterings.

Of course, if _Garp_ ever found out, there would be trouble, but as she was the sole provider of alcohol in the entire village, she hoped it might deter anyone from letting the old man known of her affairs. He'd send her away to a convent for her efforts at the mere _notion _of any romantic dabbling with a pirate. Although when it all came down to it, she was a grown woman capable of making her own decisions, but she also knew that part of her would always be the little girl looking up with awe at the kind yet odd marine who'd come to visit and bring odd knick-knacks from his voyages. Garp was, after all, the closest she'd ever had to a real father, and the thought of letting him down was hard on her heart.

But there was still a while yet before Garp was due to visit, and so she went about her chores with a smile on her face and a bounce in her step, revelling in her rebellious ways. It was strange, really, how one man could make her lose all her inhibitions, she who'd been raised with such strict discipline. It was freeing and relaxing all at once, and for the first time in years, she felt truly at peace with her situation.

Humming to herself as she made note of her inventory, Makino's tune was cut short at the sound of footsteps on the landing, followed by the slow creak of the bat-wing doors swinging softly open. The smile on her face widened a fraction, as she knew well who it was calling on her so early in the morning. Closing the door to her pantry, she walked out into the common room, to find him already seated at the bar. There was an easy smile on his face, the one reserved for her alone, but upon catching sight of him she stopped in her tracks, brows furrowing in concern.

"Is something the matter?"

His smile quirked into a smirk. "A fine morning to you as well, my dear."

Weeks ago she might have blushed, but now she merely cocked an eyebrow at his remark. "_Good_ _morning_," she emphasised deliberately with enough cheek to earn a grin, before walking to stand behind the bar directly opposite. "But you didn't answer my question, _Captain_."

He sighed. "And here I was hoping you wouldn't notice. You're getting a little too perceptive for your own good."

She smiled. "You're too easy to read sometimes."

"Ben tells me that every day – don't tell me _you're_ going to start, too?"

She laughed. "Ben has a point, but now that you've brought it up, you might as well answer. Is something the matter?"

His smile turned rueful, as though fade had dealt him a particularly unfortunate card. "Not quite."

She felt unease uncoil in her stomach. "That's awfully cryptic, for you."

"And here I thought I was such an enigmatic character," he drawled. "Can I hide nothing from those eyes of yours?"

She pursed her lips. "Trying to avoid the subject, Captain?" she asked. "You'd do well telling me sooner rather than later, or you're not getting any breakfast. And don't think I don't know that's part of the reason you show up so early," she said with a raised brow, before adding, "I know Ben refuses to cook for you."

He looked oddly hurt. "Conditions now, love? You're starting to sound like Ben. Whatever happened to feeding me out of the goodness of your heart?"

"The goodness of my heart is wholly dependent on conditions, Captain. Now, out with it."

He shook his head, and then became oddly serious. "We're going to set sail soon," he said then without further preamble, as he leaned his elbows on the bartop. It fell between them like a weight, heavy on the air, and rested there like a physical thing.

But despite her initial surprise, Makino greeted the fact with surprisingly detached acceptance. She'd known for some time that it would be time for them to leave soon. In fact, she hadn't expected them to say as long as they had in the first place. Of course, knowing this only took the sting off – it didn't _remove_ the pain at the prospect. With a heavy sigh, she let the fact settle on her shoulders, and nodded once – to herself or to him, she didn't rightly know, but it hardly mattered.

"The look on your face renders my pleasantries redundant, I fear," he quipped with a sombre smile, and she felt some kind of dark humour tug at the corner of her mouth.

"I apologise for ruining your plan, Captain. Should we start over? I'll be more surprised, this time." There was no malice in her tone, only humour, and his eyes softened at the sound.

"You are a strange woman," he told her, not for the first time, but there was fondness in the remark. She grinned.

"So I've been told. And I have anticipated this, to some extent. You _did_ warn me, several times," she reminded him.

"And you disregarded them," he retorted.

She shrugged. "And I don't regret that," she said, and she meant it. She'd had her reservations, and had been about to make a different choice. But regardless of the life that lay ahead of her, she couldn't make herself regret her decision. To her death, Emiko had not regretted hers, and Makino was beginning to understand why.

There was a comfortable silence between them. Laden silence, but comfortable nonetheless. Even in the odd lulls of his rowdy nature, his mere presence had the ability to fill a room, and she wondered idly how _silent_ it would be when he left. She knew well how eerie the tavern was in the absence of the Red Haired Pirates, but there was always the expectation that they would soon return. When they left for good, would the calm she had cherished so long drive her mad?

"It's not for a few more hours yet," he said, as though having read her thoughts. She nodded, almost numbly, and her hands itched to clean something. The tabletop, the glasses...anything to keep herself occupied and from letting her thoughts wander to the future she knew lay ahead but didn't want to acknowledge.

"Will you be coming back?"

He would have known the question was coming before he even stepped foot inside the tavern, and the heavy sigh that followed only served to underline it. And despite the fact that she had known they would soon be leaving, they had not yet broached the subject of a possible return. Would this be for good? Or would it just be another voyage, from which he would come back with more tall tales to tell and scars to show?

He regarded her for a long moment, his gaze lingering on hers, too deep in thought to actually see her, but then there was a smile tugging at his lips, pulling them into a familiar grin, and as though by magic, the tension left his stance and the guilt vanished from his eyes so fast it might never have been there in the first place. "Aa," he said then, and for all her calm and attempted detachment, Makino's relief was so staggering in its intensity she almost felt the need to sit down.

Inhaling a shuddering breath, she allowed herself to smile, but it wavered despite her attempts at making it seem effortless. "Then I'll be awaiting tales of new adventures."

He grinned. "Tall tales, or just regular ones?"

Her smile was effortless, this time. "Tall ones, please. I'll get the actual events from Ben when you've got your back turned," she said with a wink.

His sigh was wonderfully dramatic. "Sometimes I think you fancy him more than me," he said, tone mildly accusing, and she laughed.

"Jealous, Captain? I'd never thought you the type."

"I am a great many things if I put my mind to it," he quipped.

"Yes, Ben said something along those lines, too."

"Hey, now..."

She laughed, and for a moment forgot their original topic of conversation, distracted by the warm atmosphere and simple banter that came so easily with this man. Fiddling absently with the rag in her hands, the smile playing on her lips was a genuine one, although the thoughts lurking at the back of her mind were enough to wipe it off.

"You know it will not always be like this?" he said then, and she almost wondered whether or not he could tell what she was thinking.

She inhaled deeply. "Yes." She knew that though they would be coming back this time, next time could be different. Would be different, perhaps, if he was bringing it up now. One day, they _would_ leave, and they wouldn't come back. The momentary relief of his previous good humour faded abruptly at the prospect, and she felt her spirits sink a little. She should not have let her detachment go so quickly.

"Garp has been making his visits more frequent – soon we won't be able to keep up with the news from Headquarters, and he'll catch us, and that won't be good for either of us."

She nodded almost mechanically. His words felt hollow, somehow. Excuses. Valid ones, perhaps, but excuses nonetheless. She knew the real reason, and he knew that she was well aware, but still it hung between them, untouched.

"I am sorry."

A rough hand closed around hers where it was gripping the rag on the countertop, and she started. Lifting her gaze, she met his, and there was genuine apology in the usually playful dark eyes. She sighed, and a small smile played at her lips. "Sorry for what, Captain? For being a pirate? Don't coddle me, please – I've known this was coming. You're no farmer's son."

He regarded her closely for a moment, although he didn't loosen his grip on her hand. "Do you sometimes wish I was?"

She didn't even need to think about that. "Never."

His smile was wry. "Are you sure? A farmer's son wouldn't leave you."

"A farmer's son wouldn't have given me half the adventures you have," she countered, with dead honesty, and a genuine smile. "I wouldn't have had it any other way. I've carried no disillusions you'd stay with me in this backwater town of mine."

He was silent for a moment then, before speaking. "Would you come with me?"

Makino blinked, momentarily taken aback by the question. "Don't jest, Captain–"

"I'm perfectly serious."

And as she took in the set of his brows, she found that he was, in fact, perfectly serious. Her heart leapt in her chest, and she gaped a little, not knowing exactly how to respond to the unexpected query. "Captain..."

"There's room on the ship," he said then. "It would be my bunk, of course, but it's big enough for two, and the others wouldn't mind. As far as they're concerned, you're already part of the crew, anyway. All that's missing is for you to join us."

She didn't even know what to say to that. She honestly hadn't considered it, in all their time together. She'd known he would leave, and though a closet-adventurer at heart, she'd never once entertained the idea of going with him. The fact that he'd actually asked her to was so staggeringly unexpected, her mind wouldn't stop whirling.

"Speechless, my dear? It's good to know I've still go the charm."

She shook her head as she tried to collect her thoughts. "I'm afraid it's got little to do with your charm, Captain."

He grinned. "It hardly matters what it is. So, what do you say, my girl? Are you up for a real adventure?"

She smiled, turning her hand so she could wind her fingers through his. "You know my answer already," she said. "I'm a barmaid, and this is my life. The sea is _your_ home, Captain – I'm land-born. I'd be a burden, perhaps not at once, but one day, and something tells me your path will not be the safest of routes."

She wasn't going to kid herself – they was something undeniably dangerous about the man before her, hidden beneath easy grins and raucous laughter. Ben had let slip that he'd been a swabbie on the ship of the Pirate King, and had it been anyone else telling her, Makino would have laughed at the tall tale, but it was _Ben_, and so she'd believed it without a single shred of doubt. She hadn't mentioned it to Shanks – like the scars marring his eye, it was a subject best left alone. Perhaps one day they would talk about them, when she was not quite so young and impressionable, and he not quite so burdened. Because under the smiles and the laughter was the heavy tension of a man who knew more about the world than was healthy. It was another reason she knew in her heart she couldn't leave her home and go with him – whatever was planned for this man, it wasn't for her to know.

"It's not a pirate's life for me, I'm afraid," she said, and the words carried a finality to them that left no room for argument.

His smile was guilty, but undeniably sad, and she tried a smile of her own to lighten the mood, but it only made her feel even worse. It wasn't that she didn't want to go with him. In fact, part of her wanted nothing more than to leave everything behind in favour of the open sea and adventure. It would be ten times more thrilling than any paperback she'd ever read, certainly, and she'd be with him. There'd be no more departures and lonely days waiting for him to return.

But something held her back. Something told her she still had something to do in Fuschia, at least for now. Perhaps some day...

Inhaling deeply, she added, "At least not yet."

He looked up at that, one brow raised, and she grinned. "You've told Luffy time and time again he's too young to join you, and you've given him ten years. But he won't say yes to that – he'll make his own crew."

Shanks grinned at that. "Aa."

Makino's smile was secretive. "That means there'll be a spot open."

His face lit up visibly, and her grin widened. "Give me ten years, when your duties to the world of pirates is done, and mine in this backwater town, and then maybe," she inhaled deeply, "I'll say yes."

"I'll hold you to that," he said without so much as a pause, and his voice sounded oddly rough, and when she nodded, he tugged her forward. With a yelp and a laugh, she braced herself on the counter, one hand slipping around the back of his neck as he tilted her head. The edge of the counter dug uncomfortably into her ribcage, but she pushed away her discomfort, because he was leaving soon, and she would take what she could get. She'd already given her heart, and there was only one way left for her to take, and that was forward, with or without him. For now, that was her path. _That_ was her adventure.

But on the edge of her subconscious was a thought – a minuscule chance that she clung to with whatever strength she had left, like driftwood in a storm. Because there's a spot on his ship, reserved for her, for a time when his duties are done, and she's ready to leave her home for the open sea. And as she clutched onto his shirt with all the dignity of the tavern wench she is to the marrow of her bones, she wondered what she'd gotten herself into.

Because knowing him, he would hold her to her promise.

* * *

Where the first time was full of awkward moments, laughter and an interruption she won't forget for as long as she lives, the second time was quite the opposite. There were no interruptions, and no distractions or even the possibility of getting caught. It was easier, too, although she was sure she'd never know exactly where to put her hands. He'd laughingly told her it came with practice, and he'd said it with such a wicked grin, she'd been so busy laughing she'd quite forgotten to blush.

They were back where they started – above the bar, and this time there was no hesitation on her part. There was nervousness, of course – she suspected there would always be a little of that on her part, but it was a good kind of nervousness. His smile was constant against her mouth, and she nearly tripped over the doorstep, elegant as always. Grace had never been a particular virtue of hers, and she balanced precariously on the tips of her toes as she wound her arms clumsily around his neck. Her discomfort discovered, he took her by surprise by hoisting her into his arms, earning a yelp and a peal of laughter as he spun around. Her fringe fell into her line of sight, and she blew it away, eyes crinkling at the corners as she grinned down at him from her new perch. The grin she received in return was much too boyish for a man nearing thirty, and she brushed a hand against the scars across his eye, which closed at her ministrations. Covering it with the palm of her hand, she mused how much younger he looked. It was odd, and unfamiliar, and so she removed her hand, and his grin was wry as he looked up from beneath errant locks of vibrant red that would be forever etched in her memory. In the dim lamplight, the markings on his face were thrown into stark contrast against his skin, and she tilted her head as she traced a fingertip along one of the jagged lines.

The curiosity would never really go away, she mused, but she didn't pry, and when he nudged his nose against hers, she figured that it didn't matter, either way. One day, he'd tell her. He'd tell her, and she'd either be horrified at the tale, or give him a slap for his recklessness, because knowing him, it could be either of the two. But now, it didn't matter in the least, because in a few hours, his crew will raise anchor and sail away and there's no telling when she'll see him again. All she knew was that she _would_ see him again. She'd hold him to that. This time, he'd be coming back.

But next time, she thought, and knew, in her heart, they would be leaving for good.

The bed was undeniably more comfortable than the floors of the bar, and this time there were no thoughts of Garp finding out or Luffy walking in on them, and all she could think of was how she would _miss_ this man. The man who taught her to live, and to love and to _feel_ loved. The man bearing scars she doesn't know the stories behind, but that she kissed deliberately, one by one, regardless. Because Makino knew that in the years to come, what would sustain her would be her memories.

And so that is what she did. She made memories, etching them deeply into her mind so she would never forget, no matter how many years passed in his absence. Knowing that he would be gone, she also knew that in the future, and the long, lonely years that were sure to follow his final departure, she won't take a husband. She won't settle down with a small batch of children for Garp to babysit and scare into obedience, because there's a place reserved for her on a ship. A ship that will sail for the Grand Line and back, and when the day comes for her to take her place amongst the crew of which she is already part, she will have nothing holding her back. Fuschia will be just another port, and her tavern – her home – will have to move along under the guidance of someone else.

Because she has already made her decision.

The second time it happened, it was almost perfect. Slow, deliberate and silent. There were no whispers, no murmurs, and no awkward laughter. There was only the two of them, but then, that was all that really mattered. In a few hours, he would set sail, and she would remain, wiping her tables and mopping her floors, and waiting. As she always did.

And from now on, always would.

* * *

AN: So this is my new year's project – to finish this story. There's approximately five more chapters to go, so stay tuned!

Next up: it's all fun and games until someone loses an arm.


	12. a missing page, like a void

AN: YES! I am definitely out of my writer's block, and this right here is the proof! So you can all rest assured that the last chapter was not a fluke; this story is definitely back on track! Also, a huge thank-you for continued feedback and support! It's been lovely to hear from all of you who've been waiting so patiently for this story to continue – if ever there was a reason to write anything, it's wonderful readers like you!

Note on this chapter: the first incident with the bandits (the one at the bar) happened during the crew's last stay in Fuschia (i.e. the time surrounding chapter 11).

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or its characters – Eichiiro Oda does. 'Siren's Song', though, is yet another creation of my insanity; made specifically for this story.

* * *

**Chapter XII**

The day had been going _so well..._

Clutching her skirts to keep from tripping over her own feet, Makino hurtled down the street of the village, the wind whipping about her face sending her fringe into complete disarray. With her heart lodged in the base her throat, she almost choked on her own air as she pushed herself to run faster.

She should have seen it coming – should have suspected _something_ would happen, after the incident at the bar all those weeks ago. It wasn't often bandits came down from the hills, but with the tavern full of pirates she hadn't thought much about it, hadn't _considered _the consequences it could have. And despite Shanks' obvious attempt at diplomacy, she knew full well that if things were to have escalated to something serious he wouldn't have taken it quite so lightly. But as he'd said, it had only been spilled sake. So when they'd showed up that morning, drunk off their own superiority and power, Makino had been more than prepared to follow his example, to keep the peace. Without the pirates, she could do little else, after all, without putting herself and Luffy in danger.

She should have realized Luffy wouldn't see it that way.

_Please don't let me be too late!_

The mayor's cottage was right ahead of her now, and she sprinted the last few feet. Out of breath and with her heart hammering against her ribcage, she threw the door open, not even bothering to knock to announce her presence, as was proper.

"Chief!" So out of breath was she, that she couldn't seem to get out another word, but she forced them out despite the fact that she felt like choking. "Something's happened!"

Woop Slap blinked, taken aback at her brash entrance. "Makino? What's this fuss about?"

"Luffy was..." she inhaled, feeling her lungs constrict. "Luffy was kidnapped by the bandits!"

"_What?!_"

He nearly dropped his mug in surprise, eyes wide in his odd face, and Makino leaned against the door, still catching her breath. He looked like he was halfway between believing her and chalking it up to something out of her imagination – in such a quiet little village, nothing serious ever really happened, after all, let alone the kidnapping of a child.

But knowing Luffy's easily ignited temper and penchant for getting into trouble, he recovered quickly, and Makino felt a spark of hope as he scrambled to his feet. When he passed her in the doorway, she followed.

"Where, my girl?"

"Outside the bar," she said, worry gnawing at her heart. She didn't know what had transpired in the time she'd been gone, but she hoped they hadn't hurt him. She didn't know what she'd do if anything happened to the boy.

She followed the mayor down the street in the direction she'd come from, and wondered what he planned to do. To be honest, she hadn't really considered what she'd done, running to him, but he was the only one she knew in Fuschia with enough sense and righteousness to do _something_. Thinking back to how the rest of the village had acted the day the pirates had first docked, she doubted any of them would so much as lift a finger now, with hostile bandits causing trouble. Part of her wished Garp had not left for Headquarters so soon, or that the pirates weren't still out at sea, but she pushed the thought away as she followed Woop Slap towards Party's. It was no use dwelling on it, not with the situation being what it was. They'd find out what the bandits wanted, and try to get Luffy back without injuring anyone.

They heard the voices long before they even rounded the corner, and when they did, the small gathering of rag-tag criminals gathered outside her bar made Makino suddenly furious, but when her eyes landed on the small, writhing form pressed to the ground by a rough boot the anger was drowned by another wave of worry, preventing her from doing something brash.

She hadn't a clue of how to handle the situation, but thankfully the mayor was a step ahead of her. "Let the child go!" he bellowed suddenly, voice cutting through the air and alerting the men gathered around their leader. Several heads turned their way, and Makino resisted the urge to grimace at a suggestive leer directed her way in particular.

"Please!" Woop-Slap added, although she doubted that would do much good with men like them.

Then he surprised her by falling to his knees before them. "I don't know what Luffy did, and I don't want to argue with you, but I'm willing to pay," he said, voice strong despite the fact that she could see him shaking like a leaf. She felt a surge of sympathy and respect for the older man. "So please let the child go!"

Luffy echoed her awe verbally. "Chief!"

The leader of the pack seemed amused. "As expected, it's the elders that know the proper way to deal with any situation." Makino's heart sank at his words, because she could tell by his tone what was coming. "But it's too late, I'm afraid. You can't save the brat," he continued, anger marring his features. "He really pisses me off."

Something dark seemed to pass over him, and before Makino could react he'd slammed his foot down into Luffy's back. "When a weakling insults me, it makes me so _angry_...!"

"It's _your_ fault!" Luffy snapped back, and Makino wished desperately that he wouldn't make the situation worse. "You wild baboon!"

The leader growled under his breath, "Fine," he ground out, and Makino could only look on helplessly as he pulled out his sword. "I'm not gonna sell you, after all – I'll _kill_ _you_ instead."

"Luffy!" she called, not knowing what else to do. If she made a run for it, could she catch him in time...?

The familiar presence washed over her before the sound of his voice reached her ears, and her breath caught in her throat at the sudden warmth at her back. "I was wondering why no one welcomed us at the docks," came the amused rumble, and she stepped to the side, eyes wide in her face at the unexpected appearance.

"Captain!"

Shanks flashed her a grin, before turning his attention back to the spectacle in front of them. "Hey, you guys are the bandits from the other day," he said, amiably, as though seeing nothing wrong with the situation. But Makino knew he was more than well aware, and she relaxed a little, knowing that if anyone knew the best course of action when dealing with men like those before her, it was Shanks.

"Luffy! What's wrong?" he called, "Isn't your punch as strong as a pistol?" He seemed greatly humoured, and Makino knew she should relax, but it was difficult, with the bandit's sword still unsheathed and aimed at Luffy.

The boy squirmed, clearly agitated. "Shut up!"

The bandit leader turned a lazy eye on the captain. "Pirate...why are you still here? Are you going to clean up the whole town this time?" He smiled at his own joke, and Makino felt a surge of righteous anger at the smug look on his face. "I suggest you leave," he said then, reeking of self-assurance.

Shanks didn't seem to hear him, and had pushed past Makino with a reassuring touch to her shoulder, making his way slowly towards the bandits. The leader shifted in his stance. "If you get any closer I might have to open fire," he warned, before an ugly grin split his face. "_Coward_."

Shanks seemed even less perturbed than before, but before Makino could take another breath, there was a gun at his temple, and her heart leaped in her chest. The bandit holding the weapon laughed. "Didn't ya hear?! You were told to not go any closer! D'ya want to get shot?" he asked, his laughter punctuating his words, before it rippled through the rest of the group. Makino seethed softly, hands clenching against her skirts.

Shanks heaved a sigh. "Well, since you pulled your gun..." he began, "I guess we'll have to fight."

The bandit frowned. "Huh?"

Shanks turned his head, almost lazily, towards the weapon. "I said," he emphasised, as though speaking to someone exceedingly slow. "Don't draw your weapon to scare people..."

The gunshot rang out across the street before Makino had had a change to so much as blink, and her hands flew to her mouth as a strangled sound made its way past her lips.

It wasn't Shanks who fell forward, however, but the bandit, slumping against the ground as his gun clattered down beside him. Next to the captain stood Lucky, gun in one hand and a piece of meat in the other, and if Makino hadn't been quite so unable to swallow her surprise she would have found the scene almost morbidly amusing.

A chorus of angry voices rippled across the group of criminals, and Makino could only watch in amazement as several of Shank's crew stepped up to join him. Ben gave her a nod as he stepped past her, stopping next to Lucky and blocking most of her view of the group. "Dirty?" he spoke up then, to an accusation thrown their way. "Don't make us laugh. Do we look like saints to you?"

Shanks smiled at that. "The people standing in front of you are pirates," he announced, as he stepped up to the very front.

One of the bandits growled. "Shaddup! This ain't none of yer business!"

Shanks barely seemed to have heard him. "Listen up, bandits, and listen well," he continued, and there was something in his tone that had the hairs on Makino's neck stand on end. "You can throw food or sake at me, or even spit at me, and I'll laugh it off," he said, shrugging his shoulders, and she was again reminded of the incident at the bar during their last stay. "But!" Shanks snapped suddenly, startling her and the bandits before him, "I don't care what reasons you have – I won't forgive _anyone_ who touches my friends!"

Makino's breath caught in her throat, and she could only stare in amazement at the back of the cloaked figure at the head of the pirates. She hadn't seen this side of him before, the leader and captain she knew he was beneath all the smiles and the easy laughter. It was both fascinating and terrifying all at once, because behind his words was a surge of something powerful, almost tangible on the air, and the next breath she took seemed heavy, somehow.

The leader of the bandits burst into incredulous laughter. "You _won't_ _forgive_ _me_?" he asked. "You, a bunch of pirates who float around on a ship all day...want to challenge _us_?"

Makino bristled at the remark, and caught a smile from Lucky out of the corner of her eye, but didn't blush. Instead she squared her shoulders defiantly.

"We will _destroy you_!" Higuma called out then, to an answering chorus of agreement from his lackeys as they drew their weapons.

To Makino's surprise it was Ben who stepped forward, with what looked like almost bored detachment. "Let me handle this, boss," he said, "I can take care of them myself."

Makino's eyes grew wide as she watched him make quick work of the bandits charging towards him, felling one by one seemingly without making an effort. She could only gape in astonishment. She'd known he was first mate for a _reason,_ but Shanks had always made it out to be because he was the most responsible of his crew, and his closest friend. She should have realized he was far more dangerous than his calm personality suggested.

When he was done, he lit himself another cigarette, aiming his gun calmly as he regarded the leader, who still had Luffy under the sole of his boot. "Don't overestimate yourselves," he said simply, a small smirk on his perpetually amused face. "If you want to fight us, I suggest getting a fleet of marines to back you up."

Turning her eyes back to Higuma, Makino wondered what he would do next. He was more than a little outnumbered...

He gaped. "Ah! But– the brat messed with us first!" he exclaimed like a child having been caught in a scuffle, and Makino nearly rolled her eyes.

Shanks shrugged. "It doesn't matter. And even if he did, there's a reward on _your_ head..." He let the threat hang in the air, and Makino resisted the urge to smile.

However, she should have known he wouldn't give up so easily. In his panic, he drew something from his pocket before any of them had a chance to stop him, and threw it to the ground in front of him. More than one pirate was quick on the uptake, though, and before Makino could so much as shield her eyes from the blast there were two large shapes in front of her, shielding her before the smoke was even released.

"Smoke bomb!" someone called then, and she squeezed her eyes shut, and tried not to breathe. There was a flurry of movement around her and the shouting of many voices, and when she finally opened her eyes, the two pirates who'd stepped in front of her had turned to check if she was alright. She nodded absently at them, straining to see past their towering shapes towards the place where Higuma had been.

"Luffy!"

It was Shank's incredulous call that drew her attention from the open space before them, and she looked at him just as he turned towards Lucky. "BAH, we got careless! They took Luffy! _What should we do?!" _

The uncharacteristic display of unrestrained panic had Makino's jaw drop a little, but the pirates in front of her quirked a smile at their captain. Ben sighed, shaking his head with an amused smile. "That man..." he muttered, turning towards Makino and the incredulous Woop Slap. He nodded towards them. "We'll find him," he said simply, before heading off, letting slip an order to spread out that had the rest of the pirates scattering in all directions.

Makino blinked, eyes still stinging from the smoke, and not really knowing what to do with herself. Before she could gather her wits completely, though, Shanks was beside her, a hand on her shoulder. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine, but Luffy..."

He quirked a familiar smile. "He'll be alright; he can't have gotten far. Go wait at the bar in the meanwhile, my girl. Knowing him, he'll be hungry after the day's events," he said with a wink and a charming grin. With a nod at Woop Slap, who was too shaken to glare back, he walked after Ben.

"We'll check the docks, see if he's taken a boat," she heard him say, before they both walked away, the urgency in their steps betraying their calm.

Makino drew a shuddering breath, and startled when the mayor stepped up beside her. "I don't like the look of this," he muttered under his breath. She shook her head, eyes lingering on the road leading towards the docks. She felt inclined to agree.

Brushing her hands against her skirt, she made her way inside the bar, determined to calm her nerves. She'd make a meal. Something with meat, for Luffy when they brought him back. Because they _would_ – she didn't need to doubt that. So with her heart still in her throat, she set about preparing a feast, not just for Luffy, but for the entire crew. It gave her something to do; to occupy both her mind and her hands.

It was better than doing nothing, after all.

* * *

In the end, her food went untouched.

Fingers tightening against her sides, Makino leaned her back against one of the stacked crates littering the docks, sliding down until she was seated on the rough planking. The night was quiet around her, and other than the soft lap of the waves against the wharf, there were no other sounds to break the heavy silence. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, before letting it out and allowing herself to sink back into her rigid seat. In the shadow of the pile of crates she felt strangely comforted – a feeling she latched on to with vigour, in light of the day's hectic events.

She'd just finished preparing her meal, wordlessly fretting over Luffy's situation as she worked, when the doors to the bar had been thrown open and one of Shanks' swabbies had come rushing in. He just barely taken a step inside before the news had tumbled off his tongue, and Makino had almost dropped what she'd had in her hands as the reality of his words settled fully in her mind.

Because whatever she'd thought would happen in their search for Luffy and Higuma, a grapple with the local sea king had _not_ been on the list.

She'd pushed past him before he'd even gotten to the part where Shanks had had his arm torn off – she hadn't needed to hear more, at the time. His urgency was enough to know that it wasn't anything good, and she hadn't even stopped to let him catch up as she'd hurtled towards the port. When she'd gotten there, the docks had been a chaotic convergence of pirates of high and low rank, and if she hadn't already known that something had gone horribly wrong, their frantic murmurs would have been enough to alert her.

Regardless of the turmoil, she'd located Luffy amongst the throng of people, and pushed her way past them until she'd reached him. The boy had been shivering, drenched to the bone, and his red-rimmed eyes had been starting out at nothing.

That was when she'd noticed the blood.

It had covered most of the docks, like a grotesque scene out of one of her more gory novels. It almost looked like a slaughter ship had stopped by to unload, the red was so vivid against the wood. She'd almost emptied her stomach at the sight of it, and hadn't even uttered the _whats_ and the _whys _yet. When she'd gathered her wits enough to focus clearly, she'd noticed that Luffy, too, was covered in it, the colour stark against the white of his shirt.

And since there wasn't a scratch on the boy, it could only mean one thing. And there was no way Luffy would have shed tears for the _bandit_.

Placing a hand in front of her eyes, Makino drew another breath, willing herself to be calm. Ben had been there then, at her shoulder, telling her Doc had stopped the bleeding but that the captain had lost consciousness when they'd brought him ashore, sprouting jokes to his eyes had rolled back into his head. She'd latched onto that detail, because if he could _joke_ about it, it meant it wasn't too bad. It meant it wasn't _lethal_.

But despite her attempts at reassuring herself, she knew that losing an arm to the jaws of a sea king was, in fact, very bad. And very lethal.

She'd been on the docks since, with the exception of taking Luffy back to the bar. After cleaning him up and putting him to bed with the assurance that she'd bring back news when she got them, she'd gone back down to the port. Lucky had taken her to the galley when the sun had dipped below the horizon and it had become too cold to stay outside, but she hadn't been able to sit still for long, and had gone back out to get some air.

Now the shadows shrouded her from sight, yet peace was as elusive as it had been inside.

_Breathe. In. Out. You're fine. _

"You'll catch a cold out here," a voice spoke out suddenly, and she startled in her seat, eyes flying up to the shadow she hadn't notice join the one that hid her from view.

"Ben," she breathed when she recognized him, and she caught his smile as he stepped into the sliver of light from the moon overhead. It was a wry quirk of the lips, so very unlike his usual amusement, and it made her heart drop into her stomach.

"No," she croaked. "Don't tell me–"

He shook his head, cutting her off before she could say it. "He's fine," he said, and she let out a strangled breath. "Doc's got it under control."

"And..."

"He'll live."

She closed her eyes, relief washing through her. "Thank goodness."

Ben said nothing to that, but she heard him light a cigarette. The smell of it reached her nose, and she welcomed it as it drove away the smell of blood that had stuck to her nose for the last few hours.

When she met his gaze, he smirked, reading her question on her face. "He's awake. Been asking for you, as it is. That's why I came to see where you'd gone off to." He snorted then, and now his smile was truly amused, despite the dark shadows on his face. "He's mistaken me for you twice now," he muttered. "I don't know if he really thought I was you, or if he only did it to annoy me. Hard to tell with him sometimes."

Makino felt a smile tug at her lips despite herself. "It is, isn't it?"

Ben nodded towards the ship. "You'd better get up there before he starts wooing Doc. Considering the fact that he's been working since noon, I don't think he'll be very receptive to the captain's jokes, however flattering they may be."

Rising to her feet, Makino brushed her trembling hands against her skirt, hoping Ben wouldn't notice, although by the way his eyes shifted away when she straightened, she had a feeling he had.

_Breathe. In. Out. You're fine. _

_**He's** fine. _

Their walk up to the ship was made in silence, and once she stepped onto the deck, Lucky and Yassop were there, sitting silently outside the galley. Upon catching sight of her, they nodded, and she tried a small smile that felt so forced she had to drop it.

Ben nodded towards the captain's cabin. "Call us if you need us to restrain him. Doc's meds tend to make him a little frisky," he said, deadpan as usual, and despite herself, Makino felt a genuine smile replace the forced one.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said, before making her way towards the cabin door. Inhaling deeply, she opened it, and stepped inside without preamble.

Upon her entry, the crew's doctor rose from his seat. "There ya are," he said, voice gruff. "Was beginnin' ta think ya'd finally gotten some sense and left his sorry arse behind." Despite his words, she caught the underlying gratitude, and smiled as he made his way past her.

"Oye, Doc," drawled a tired voice from the bed shoved against the wall, and her gaze shifted to meet the captain's. His grin was tired, but no less genuine. "What did I tell you about bad-mouthing me in front of pretty ladies? Ben's become a bad influence on you."

Doc snorted, and nodded to Makino as he made for the door. "If he starts acting up, give me a call," he grumbled, much like Ben had, although there was enough concern in that phrase that Makino knew he wasn't talking about the captain's wandering hands.

"Will do, Doc."

When the door closed behind him, Makino turned towards the shape on the bed, brows furrowed in worry. They'd changed his shirt, but the left sleeve had been cut off completely, and her heart constricted at the sight of the bandaged stump. The rest of the bandage was wrapped around his shoulder and upper torso, and it peeked out from beneath the open shirt.

"Like what you see?"

She didn't know whether to laugh or cry, and settled for something in between as she came to sit down in the chair Doc had left by the bed. "You foolish man," she breathed.

He grinned. "What? I heard all decent ladies get weak in the knees at the sight of battle scars. Figured _this_ had to top the ones I already have," he quipped tiredly, dark eyes gleaming from beneath damp strands of vibrant red.

She reached out a shaking hand to brush it away from his face, a sob in her throat that she refused to let escape. "Should have consulted me first, hmm?" she tried, but the tears sprung to her eyes despite her attempts at keeping them at bay.

His gaze softened at that, and some of the humour drained from them. "I'm sorry – I didn't really stop to think."

She shook her head. "You saved Luffy's life," she said. "Don't be sorry about that."

He quirked a smile. "Kid alright?"

"A little shaken up, but he'll be fine," she said. "I put him to bed a while ago; he was exhausted."

Shanks chuckled, the sound deep in his throat. "A lot of excitement for one day, huh? Surprised the village could handle it."

Makino wiped at her eyes, a humourless laugh pulling free of her throat. "Yeah, well, we're getting better at that."

His gaze softened, and as he lifted his right arm, she felt rough fingers grasp her trembling hand. "You okay, love?"

She made a disbelieving sound. "You're asking _me_?"

He grinned. "Gotta stay tough. You know how it is."

She shook her head. "You strange man, I am _fine_. Worried about _you_, if anything. Are you in any pain?"

He snorted. "After what Doc's been feeding me? Can't feel my left arm anymore. Oh, wait," he joked, but his smile fell at the look on her face. "What, too soon?"

She sighed, and a smile tugged at her lips. "Sorry, Captain. Please, joke as much as you'd like. It's better than the alternative."

"Which is?"

She gave him a look, and he shrugged, but winced a bit. "Ah, maybe I can feel it after all," he wheezed, and her eyes widened in alarm. When she was about to rise, his fingers tugged her back down. "Hey now, let the man rest a bit. He's been at it since they brought me in."

"But–"

"My _dear,"_ he cut her off. "What I need isn't more medicine – I've had enough of _that_ to last me a lifetime, I think."

She inhaled deeply. "Then what to you need?"

His gaze shifted towards the desk propped against the wall opposite the bed. "Top drawer," he said. "There's a parcel. Get it for me?"

She frowned, but did as she was asked, and retrieved a flat, rectangular package wrapped in coarse brown paper. As she sat down, she raised a questioning brow. "And now?"

He grinned, nudging her. "Open it. It's for you."

She blinked. "Me?"

His smile was wry. "Yes, you. It's a gift."

She looked down at the parcel, then up at him. When he nodded, she set to unwrapping it, and despite the situation, her eyes widened in appreciation at the sight of the leather-bound book. Running her hands over the cover, she nearly cooed at the smooth texture. Quality leather, no doubt. And real gilded edges, if she wasn't mistaken.

When she looked at him, he was grinning, clearly pleased with himself. "Went to a lot of trouble for that, you know. It's a first edition. And _rare_, too. Headquarters would throw a fit if they knew I had it."

"You _stole_ it?!"

He grinned, unperturbed by her undignified outburst. "Not entirely. I got it off a guy who'd robbed a government ship a few weeks back. It was carrying antiques, one of which was your new novel."

She looked at it, eyes wide. "Mine? This isn't _mine_, captain. And _government ship_?" She was almost afraid to hold it, feeling as though marines would be storming in at any moment, to lock her up just for touching it.

He tried to wave it off. "Last time I checked, the government had more important things to occupy its time with than preserving old books. You're a much worthier keeper."

She knew she still looked dubious, and he raised his brows innocently. "You don't like it?"

She tried to glare at him, but failed, so she settled for shaking her head. "You're a scoundrel."

"Why, thank you."

She laughed, and caught herself, but he was smiling. "There it is! I was wondering what it would take." He ignored the look she gave him, and nodded towards the book. "So, I haven't read it yet, and I don't know what it's about. But since I'm not really cut out to do much else at the moment..."

"Would you like me to read to you, Captain?"

His smile was decidedly charming, and she knew what was coming even before he spoke the words. "Unless you have other ideas. Although I don't think Doc would approve of _that_ with my condition being what it is."

She slapped his uninjured arm with the side of the book. "Oh, quiet, you! You've past the point where you can make me blush, you know," she declared.

"Hmmm. Care to bet?"

She shook her head. "You're _incorrigible_."

"So many compliments today," he mused.

"Only _you_ can take those as compliments, Captain."

"I'll take _that_ as another compliment."

She sighed, but it was good natured. It was soothing to her frayed nerves that he was making jokes, although she wondered how much of his behaviour was the result of heavy drugs, and how much was due to his general, light-hearted attitude.

Pushing the thought to the back of her mind, she opened the book in her lap, and turned a few pages until the start of the first chapter, marvelling slightly at the elaborate writing and the decorative edges. "Are you sure you wish me to read? Wouldn't you rather sleep?"

He shook his head, although he'd closed his eyes. "Right now," he drawled, exhaustion heavy in his tone, "I'd like to listen to your voice. I've missed it."

The honest admission made her heart flutter against her ribcage, and a soft smile settled on her face as she looked at him, sweat coating his skin and his bright hair clinging to his forehead. It wasn't the reunion she'd looked forward to, but she'd take it. She'd grab onto it with both hands and never let go, because the alternative was unthinkable. She'd long ago reconciled herself with the thought of him leaving her, because she knew in the roots of her heart that he'd come back someday. Or at least that despite being oceans apart, he'd be alive and well. It was a truth she knew she'd live by for the rest of her days. She hadn't even considered _losing_ him, before today. Because though his heart belonged to the Sea, Makino knew She would one day give him back.

Death was a much crueller Mistress.

Forcing her attention away from that thought, Makino focused on the soft intakes of breath from the bed beside her, and the steady rise and fall of his bandaged chest. He was asleep already, but she didn't mind; she'd said she would read to him, and so she would. It would give her something to do, anyway, and keep her from losing her mind with worry in the long hours that was sure to follow. There would be no sleep for her tonight, she knew.

And so, seated on an uncomfortable chair in a stuffy cabin with a priceless piece of loot in her possession, Makino began to read.

"_At the furthest edge of the ocean, in a realm rarely travelled by Men, there lived a Siren, dancing upon the waves and singing the lulling song of the depths..."_

* * *

AN: For those of you who've been hinting at it, you are right, I _am_ angling this towards the cover of chapter 614, but that's all I'm going to say on _that_ matter ;) If it turns out to be Shanks', I will laugh myself into a stupor, because I've been shipping this pairing for _years. _


	13. disbound, but not forever

AN: Apologies for the lack of updates, but I've been pretty swamped with other projects. Alas, I hope you'll enjoy the continuation. Three more chapters to go (plus a little something extra for those of you who've asked for it, hurr hurr).

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or its characters – Eichiiro Oda does.

* * *

**Chapter XIII**

_A week,_ he tells her one day.

Doc had just finished changing the bandage, and Makino hadn't been inside the cabin more than five minutes. He'd grown restless the past few days, bedridden as he was. It was understandable that he was eager to get going, but it had still caught her off guard.

She didn't want to admit that she'd gotten comfortable with him staying; that she'd pushed the reality of their imminent departure away because he'd been injured. She didn't want to admit it, but she knew he was probably aware. Hence the brusque reminder.

Doc threw her a look that spoke volumes of what he thought about it, but Makino waved him off with an apologetic look, and so he only sighed, shaking his head as he made for the door, muttering under his breath. From the bed, Shanks grinned, seemingly unaffected by the sudden tension in the cramped room. And hadn't it been for the look in his eyes, Makino would have been fooled by the façade.

He was propped up against the wall, and slouched casually with an arm behind his head and a book open on his lap. The colour was back in his cheeks, and Makino was momentarily taken aback at how _well_ he looked, she could only stare.

Then she caught sight of the empty space where his left arm should have been, and her expression fell.

He quirked a brow, a quizzical smirk playing at his lips. "What's that look for?"

She quickly schooled her expression. "There's no look," she said as she came to sit on the edge of the bed, hands nervously smoothing over her skirts. Snapping the book shut, he deliberately raised a brow, the look stating quite clearly that he didn't believe one word. She sighed. "How's your arm?"

"Still missing," he chirped, not missing a beat.

Makino took the book from him, smacking his leg with it, and he laughed. "I meant the..." she motioned in the general area of his shoulder, waving the book to emphasise her point.

He looked at it, pulling an odd grimace, as though he couldn't quite decide what to think of it. "It's strange," he said after a moment of contemplation. Then he shrugged, turning his sharp eyes back on her. "I'd thought I'd feel...lopsided, but I don't. It's still weird, though, but better than expected."

She smiled, satisfied, fingers running over the cover of the book in her hands absent-mindedly. His eyes followed the movement. "Did you like it?" he asked.

She met his gaze. "I haven't finished it yet. We still have more than half of it left," she reminded him. She'd been reading to him; it was a slow process, for he was prone to ponder certain points in the story aloud as she read, and many times she had to go back and re-read some sections. And if he feel asleep during a reading, he would demand she go back and re-read that, too, though she had a feeling it wasn't because he was so caught up in the story.

Shanks snorted. "Come now, Makino," he chided, playfully. "I know you've finished it."

She flushed, but didn't drop her eyes from his. "Well, I had to occupy myself with something all those times you've been asleep."

He managed to look hurt. "You're saying my presence isn't enough to satisfy you?" He placed a hand over his heart. "Cruel girl."

She rolled her eyes. "I think you'll live, Captain."

"I could have died in my sleep and you wouldn't have noticed. I know how you are when you read."

She grinned. "Ben would have found you, eventually," she shrugged, nudging him with the book. "And it's not like we would have finished it together in time, anyway." She heard the edge to her words just seconds after they tumbled off her tongue, but it was too late to take them back. This time, she did drop her gaze, suddenly ashamed. "I'm sorry–"

"Makino."

She didn't look at him. Couldn't, because she didn't want to see what she knew would be on his face. She'd walked into her fate willingly, and she wasn't about to give him hell for what had been inevitable all along.

"A week," she said instead.

"Aa."

She looked at the book in her lap, traced the pads of her fingers over the gilded edges. "Are you ready?"

She couldn't see him shrug, but she felt the mattress shift beneath her, and heard the rustle of the sheets. "Who knows? Ben thinks we should stay longer. Doc agrees," he added the last with a snort, and she didn't need to be looking at him to know he was smirking.

"And you don't."

He was silent a long while, so long that she felt her hands clench against the book. Finally, he sighed. "I think that if we stay longer...leaving will be harder."

She looked up, surprised at the honest admission. He grinned, but there were shadows behind his eyes, and the humour he was trying to pass off only left a bitter taste on her tongue. "Makino. Don't think this is easy. If it were, we would have set sail months ago and never returned. Why do you think we've kept coming back?" _Why do you think _**_I've_**_ kept coming back?_

She didn't bother trying to stop the tears; he knew as well as she did she was horrible at hiding her own feelings. "Well...I'm sorry for making it so difficult for you, Captain," she barked a humourless laugh, and wiped at her eyes.

He grinned lazily at her, reaching his remaining hand out to wipe away the wetness from her cheeks. "You'll bring great men to their knees with those tears, Makino dear, mark my words."

She sniffed, but a laugh pulled its way past her lips. "Only you, Captain."

"Good." He winked. "Hate to come back to take you away and find you tied down." But right after he'd spoken the words, something passed over his face, darkening his features momentarily. "Although–"

"No."

"If you do find someone–"

"No."

"Then you should know–"

"_No_."

"Makino–"

"The answer is 'no', Captain." She was momentarily surprised at the steel in her own voice, and swallowed. "I'll wait."

He sighed. "You say that _now, _but ten years is a long time. If someone comes along and you've got a shot at happiness–"

"Then I'll kindly tell them where to stick it."

He laughed. "Ah, my girl, Benny's had a bad influence on you!"

"_Come now_, Captain," she mimicked. "You like it."

He grinned. "Gods help me, but I do." He looked at her for a long moment, before a deep sigh pulled from his lips. "Tell me what I'll do without you."

Her fingers left the cover of the novel to reach for his lone hand, knuckles brushing over his skin. "You'll get into trouble," she said, a small smile playing at her lips as she traced the white scars criss-crossing over his wrist, and the sword-calluses on his palm. "You'll get _everyone_ into trouble."

"Yeah."

"You'll get lost, too."

"Probably."

"And forget to dress with the weather."

He grinned. "Most _definitely_."

His hand was larger than hers, and worn. His adventures marked his skin, and she wondered how his hand would look in ten years time. How many more scars would he have to show her? How many more tall tales would he have to tell? Would he even be alive to–

She stopped herself from even finishing the thought, unable to bear the implications. Instead she focused on the man in front of her now; _injured,_ but alive.

"Ben will lecture you," she pushed herself to continue, ignoring the way her voice had thickened with tears she refused to shed. "And Doc will patch you up. They'll all have your back." _They'll keep you alive. _

"Ah, but who will keep me _sane_?"

She laughed at that; the sound bursting from her lips with more force than she'd expected. She grinned, and tilted her head to the side, meeting his gaze. "Oh, I'm sure you'll find a nice girl in some other backwater port."

His lips quirked up. "Yeah? Do you think _she_ reads, too?"

Makino hummed. "Hard to say. You should stock up on some new books, just in case."

"Sound advice. They _have_ worked surprisingly well as gifts," he mused. "Flowers are outdated, it seems, and you know a charmer of my level of quality must keep up with the times."

"True. But no stolen goods this time – she might not be as accepting of your roguish ways."

His grin was wicked. "Oh no? I've come to find that even the most proper of girls can be persuaded, with the right means."

She said nothing to that, and for a brief moment, the cabin was quiet. Closing her eyes, she could feel the soft sway of the ship, and the _thump-thump-thump _of hurried feet on the deck outside, steady like a heartbeat – the pulse of the ship. Ben's muffled voice drifted through the door as he passed by, but nothing disturbed them where they sat, silent in each other's company.

"His first bounty."

Her eyes snapped open, and she looked up, wondering if she'd accidentally dozed off. "What?"

Shanks smirked. "Luffy's first bounty. That's when you'll know."

She smiled. "You have faith he'll get a bounty so soon? I've heard it can take years."

Shanks snorted. "That kid'll throw himself into the government's line of vision before he reaches the Grand Line. He's got a penchant for trouble, and you know it."

Makino laughed. "I'll be ready when he sets sail, then, shall I?"

He shrugged. "Unless you change your mind and want to come with us now."

She smiled, but shook her head. "Tempting offer, Captain, but you know my answer."

"Eh. Can't fault a man for trying." He smirked, but it seemed half-hearted – a shadow of the smile he'd be giving her if she'd indeed agreed to go with them. The thought sobered her from the comfort of his easy jokes, and reality felt cold even in the warmth of the cabin; the realisation that this would be their last day together in a decade.

The unwanted thought that the promise of his return was wholly dependent on the fact that he actually lived so long crept forth again from the back of her mind, but Makino shoved it down forcefully. She'd entertained the thought before – too much for her own peace of mind, but it was hard to quell once it had taken root. The seafaring life of a pirate was not to be taken lightly, especially for a pirate like him. He often joked about it – his apparent lack of fame, but Makino wasn't so easily fooled. He'd taken down a Sea King with a single look – the rumours had hit the village as quickly as the news about the loss of his arm had. And, of course, she'd been present to see him handle the bandits. A man who radiated authority like _that_ wasn't just a simple thief.

But if he felt better pretending to be otherwise around her, she would let him. Just like she let him keep the secrets about his scars – or as he called it, "the cooking accident", his "unfortunate attempt at juggling knives", and his "unforgettable run-in with a mountain-cat he'd tried to bring back to the ship that one time on that island in North Blue".

Of course, she wouldn't insult his intelligence more than he would hers, and think he genuinely believed he had her fooled.

So it remained between them; in the gap between their worlds – like the vast mountain range dividing the blues from the Grand Line. And just like the unpredictable waters of the latter differed from the calmness of the blue Makino called home, their worlds remained separate, and would stay that way. At least until he returned. Until then, she would believe the story about the cooking accident, and the knife-juggling, and the mountain cat. Because the real story behind those scars had nothing to do with the life she led now – the quiet daily routines of a barmaid. No, that story she would reserve for the day she stepped aboard his ship like a member of his crew.

"Ten years."

She nodded, and breathed through her nose, as though feeling the weight of it settle across her shoulders. "Ten years."

"I'll be old," he mused.

"So will I."

"Not _so_ old," he said, with a rueful smirk. "Sure you'll still want a geezer like me?" Despite the teasing lilt to his tone, the actual question was loud and clear. He'd meant for her to hear it.

She shrugged, not missing a beat. "We'll see. You might have some new crewmen by then–"

"Note to self, never hire anyone more handsome than myself," Shanks muttered under his breath.

"–and if not, there's always Ben," Makino quipped.

Shanks snorted. "Oh, you think _I'll_ be old by then? Benny'll be all grey hair and arthritis, mark my words."

Makino grinned. "Oh, but I like a man with some grey in his hair."

He glared at her. "_Cruel_."

She laughed, her eyes going to his hair, falling over his scarred eye. "And _your_ hair, Captain? What colour will it be?"

He managed to look sufficiently scandalized. "Hey! I won't even be _forty_ by then. You're taking the old man joke a bit too far," he warned.

"You make it too easy, Captain."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "I'll show you. You and Ben _both_."

"We'll see, Captain."

He smirked. "That so? Then I'm looking forward to it."

Fingers tightening around his, meeting his laughing dark eyes with her own, Makino felt, for perhaps the first time since his departure from her village and her life had become imminent, the cold hands of helplessness let go of her heart. And from the chasm spanning the years ahead of them, hope crawled its way to the surface. And taking in the cocksure grin on his face, present despite his new handicap and promising future mischief to drive the government out of their collective minds...

...Makino found that perhaps ten years wouldn't be such a long time.

* * *

The last time it happened it was the night before their departure, and it was fierce and passionate and borderline violent as he pushed her up against the wall of his cabin. Having only one arm didn't seem to hinder him, and he easily traded the touch of rough fingers with the graze of teeth and a grinning mouth.

In some warped idea of coming full circle, she had been the one to initiate it, just like the first time. Only there had been nothing awkward about it now – no fumbling hands or interruptions. It was just the two of them, and the sobering promise of ten years apart.

The crew didn't dare interrupt them, knowing that behind their Captain's boisterous laughter and cocksure smiles there was a private grief only those who knew him best knew how to spot. So Makino had left the tavern open, giving the men somewhere to be. In return, the ship was theirs for the night, bobbing silently on the calm waters of Fuschia Port. A familiar sight now, for most of the villagers. Rumour had it they were there to stay for good (although what Garp would say about _that_, no one knew), and the general consensus (as it had been after the incident with Luffy and the Sea King), was that perhaps the redhead wasn't such a bad sort after all. There'd be no more trouble with bandits, that was for sure.

Makino had smiled through all the excited chatter, and ignored the pointed looks Suzume had pierced her with from across the market, instead nodding her head eagerly to the villagers' enthusiastic gossip. Once the news had settled that the Captain had made it through the ordeal, people had been crowding the bar for days to ask about his condition. Was he doing well, was the wound healing, and when would he be at the tavern again did she think?

She hadn't had the heart to tell them they were leaving.

They irony was almost laughable, but the tears pressing against her eyes made it feel more like she was choking than anything else. So she buried her face in the crook of his neck and drew herself away from the reminder that come daybreak, there would be no more tall tales and charming smiles for her to roll her eyes at. Opening her eyes from where she'd been clenching them shut, Makino focused them instead on the tendrils of bright red hair that clung to her cheeks, and the sound of his breathing, ragged in the quiet of the cabin.

The exertion was too much, too soon, but he said nothing about it, and neither did she, even as her hands ghosted over his skin, fever-warm from more than just the summer heat. His breath was rough in his throat, but she didn't stop him, and he muttered his appreciation against the skin of her neck. He'd said something earlier about covering ten years in one night, and she'd laughed, until she'd realised he'd been completely serious.

That had struck her the hardest – the realisation that had suddenly popped into her head, clinging to the front of her mind like plastic film. She hadn't broached the subject – hadn't dared, because_ ten years was a long time_. She'd resigned herself to the fact that there would be others in between – other _women_ – and the admission that there _wouldn't_ be had almost floored her.

His skin was getting ever warmer beneath her fingers – _too warm_, and when she put her hands against his shoulders, gently pushing him back towards his bunk, he had little strength left to protest her actions. He collapsed back against the tangled blankets with a graceless lack of care that truly spoke of how _tired_ he was, but she said nothing as she moved to follow, tugging the sheets away and curling up against his uninjured side, pressing her ear against his heart.

"Not...dead _yet_..." his voice was a rasp in her ears, tinged with his particular brand of inappropriate humour. She smiled against his skin, but it wavered, and she felt the tears run down her cheeks to mingle with the perspiration clinging to the fine hairs dusting his chest.

"Good way...to go...though–" he coughed, and chuckled. She felt his hand – his only remaining hand – reach up, and his fingers as they wound through the damp strands of her hair. She breathed.

"In ten years...I'll be able to _lift_ you," he said then.

Makino's brows furrowed, and she raised her head from his chest, looking down at him quizzically. Despite his glassy eyes, he grinned roguishly at her, and nodded towards the wall where they'd been previously...occupied. "Still haven't gotten used to it, but give me a few years," he said, with a determined nod to his head.

...and she _laughed_.

Dropping her head, Makino felt her shoulders convulse as peals of laughter tumbled off her tongue, caught so off-guard by his inappropriate comment she didn't know what to do with herself.

"Ah, she _does_ laugh," he murmured, repeating words from a time where they hardly knew one another, and she swiped at him, grinning through her tears.

"You awful man! Is that all you think about?" But she couldn't have made her words sound serious even if she'd tried, and by the growing grin on his face, he was well aware of the fact.

She wiped at her eyes and shook her head. A rueful smile tugged at her lips. "Ten years...can do a lot to a woman, you know," she said after a lull, meeting his gaze. It was something that had gnawed at her for some time – another fear she hadn't dared voice, because it had been so _silly_, compared to everything else a decade long separation brought with it. He'd joked about his hair, but she wondered if he would even recognise her, ten years down the line. If the image he took with him, kept with him, was of herself as she was _now_...would he be disappointed at what ten years would do?

"The loss of an arm can do a lot to a man," he said then, catching her off guard. He raised a brow at her expression, as though daring her to question his logic. "You still sure you'll want me back?"

"Of _course_–"

"Then _stop worrying_."

She snapped her mouth shut, and he grinned up at her with a lazy smile. "You'll be as beautiful then as you are now," he said, rough fingers grazing her cheek, turning her head a little as though to get a better look at her. "Even more so, I'm willing to bet." Curling his fingers below her chin, he tugged her face down, grazing her mouth with his. She could feel his grin as it stretched across his lips.

"And if not, I'm sure Ben will have you," he quipped.

"Captain..."

"What?"

The jab to the side of his stomach tore a laugh from his throat, but before he'd had a chance to make a grab for her arm, she'd reached in with her other hand, pinching _hard_, and he threw his head back with a roar.

"Cripple! Cripple here! Un-unfair play, Ma-Makino!" He wheezed. "St-stop it!"

"Oh, I'm _sorry_, Captain. I'll leave you to your wounds, if you wish. I heard somewhere there's a first mate with a vested interest in me_-e–!" _she shrieked with laughter as his fingers caught the sensitive spot beneath her ribs – the movement the fluid motion of someone intimately familiar with the existence of said spot. She squealed with laughter, and squirmed to get away, for the first time in over a week completely unmindful of his still-healing wound.

Shanks caught her around the waist and tugged her back down, somehow managing to keep both of her arms out of reach of his stomach. "Settle down, you vixen – you're going to give me a heart-attack with your antics," he gasped between breaths.

She stuck her tongue out. "Oh, _hush._ You'll be missing my antics the minute you set sail tomorrow," she retorted cheekily, ignoring the sting beneath her ribs as her words fell easily from her lips.

The hand that had kept her arms pressed down released them, only to press her head against his chest. The action was fervent, _desperate_ almost, but his good humour rolled over her like a spray of warm sea foam.

"Oh, my girl, you have _no idea_."

She grinned against his skin. "You've got to stop saying such things, Captain, or I might just write a book about you."

"Hah! You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, I'm quite sure I would. I have ten years on my hands – what else will I do with my time, once my best customers leave?"

Laughter rumbled beneath her ear. "And what would this book be about then, hmm? A roguish captain who sweeps a young village girl off her feet?"

She snorted, falling into their pattern with ease. "Don't flatter yourself, Captain. I'm quite sure _I _was the one doing the sweeping in this adventure."

"Were you now?" he hummed.

She nodded. "Mhm."

He raised his head to meet her eyes, his own glittering in the shadows of the cabin. "And pray tell how does this story end, Miss Makino? _After_ the sweeping, of course."

She met his gaze squarely with her own. "After the sweeping?" He nodded, and she hummed thoughtfully. "Well...after the sweeping, their lives will take them in different directions. For a little while, at least. But of course he won't be able to resist, so he'll come back for her."

Shanks grinned back. "Indeed? And the sweeper herself?"

Makino breathed in, putting her head back down on his chest. "Oh, her? She'll be waiting for him when he returns. In most tragedies, she'll have died the hour before his arrival or some such nonsense, but not in this story."

"No?"

She shook her head, and smiled to herself. "No. In this story she's just waiting. He'll be late, of course – he's the type to be late."

"Sounds like quite the rogue."

"Mhm. And she'll be quite cross with him."

"But she'll forgive him?"

"Oh, always." She pressed her cheek over his heart, closing her eyes as she picked out the steady _thump_-_thump _against his ribcage. The pulse of the ship. "She's got a world of patience for him."

She felt his fingers tangle in her hair, brushing against the back of her neck, before pressing her close. "Even if it's been ten years?"

"Even if it's been a _lifetime_."

* * *

Ben raised his head at the muffled sound cutting through the night air, drifting up from the previously quiet docks, and felt a smirk tug at his lips quite despite himself.

"Ain't heard the Cap laugh like _that_ in years," Yasopp remarked from beside him, removing a cigarette from his lips and breathing out a lungful of smoke.

Ben said nothing, merely gave a nod of his head in affirmation. Cheerful as their boss usually was, Yasopp was quite right in his observation. He listened for the sound again, but the night was once again quiet around them where they stood at the ridge overlooking the docks.

Despite his previously light comment, the man beside him seemed pensive, and Ben raised a brow in silent question. Yasopp shrugged, the movement awkward, as though unsure of his next words. "I'm just thinking. Hope he doesn't leave her with...an unnecessary burden. Lass doesn't deserve what that's going to bring her, young and unmarried like that."

Ben gave his friend a sidelong look. "For all his forgetfulness, he isn't careless."

Yasopp nodded, but the tension in his shoulders didn't give out, and Ben knew he was thinking about his own son. For all his blustering stories about the boy and what a great kid he was, Ben knew the man well enough to know there was more to Yasopp's chatter than fatherly pride. There was regret there, too, for leaving the boy. Regret and guilt. Most people just didn't know how to spot it.

"Is it true what he said?" he asked then. "The Cap? That we're coming back?"

Ben felt a smile curl along his lip, and shrugged. "If she'll still have him in ten years time."

Yasopp nodded, and Ben caught his wry smirk. "Lass got him good, didn't she?"

Ben snorted. "That would be putting it lightly."

"Poor bastard."

Ben rolled his eyes. "He had it coming. Saw it the day they met."

Yasopp hummed, the sound low in his throat. "Cap's always had an eye for pretty girls, though. What made you think she was different?"

Ben smirked. "Because the last time he laughed like _that_," he gestured to the docks, silent in the balmy night, "was when she told him to order his drink or get out of her doorway." He snorted. "Pair that attitude up with those eyes..." he trailed off, shaking his head.

Yasopp gave him a searching look. "Charmed quite a few men with those peepers, didn't she?"

Ben ignored his pointed stare and the underlying suggestion, and kept his eyes on the ship. Yasopp said nothing else, but nodded to himself, as though he'd gotten his answer after all. Putting the cigarette back to his lips, he took another long drag. It wasn't often he indulged, but their imminent departure had had its effect on the crew in different ways. Ten years was a long time.

"You still certain he's serious? A decade is a long time to keep a woman waiting. And wouldn't it be safer for her to just stay here anyhow? A pirate ship ain't no place for a girl like Makino-chan."

Ben said nothing at first – just kept his steady gaze on the docks and the darkened horizon in the far distance, as though weighing his words. Behind them the village lay quiet, sprawled along the sloping hillside into the mainland. The only lights visible amongst the shadows were from Party's Bar – the lanterns outside swaying in the soft breeze. The Captain's absence was evident in the lack of noise drifting out from the establishment. Instead, if he concentrated, Ben could make out soft murmurs on the air, but there was no celebratory mood amongst the crew tonight.

After a lull, he finally spoke up, putting words to the thoughts he'd been contemplating for the past hour, "Captain told me something, once."

Yasopp raised his eyes, but Ben wasn't looking at him. "Back from his Oro Jackson days," he continued. "He told me how Roger had had this island that he'd visit, from time to time. He'd never said _why_, but there was a rumour aboard the ship." He threw his companion a significant look.

Yasopp hummed, brows raising in realisation. "A woman?"

Ben shrugged. "Maybe. As far as the rumours go, anyhow." But his wry smirk was verification enough.

"What happened to her? After the execution, I mean. The government issued that manhunt, didn't they? Tried to track down anyone who'd so much as shared a drink with the man..." Something crept into his tone as he spoke, as though he was catching on to where Ben was heading.

Ben turned his gaze back to the horizon, leaving Yasopp's question hanging between them, heavy like an anchor rooting a ship to the bottom of the sea. The implication was a sharp taste on his tongue, and he caught Yasopp's muted curse as it fell from his lips. The world wasn't a fair place, least of all for those who gave their hearts to wanted men.

Yasopp said nothing for a long moment, seemingly lost in thought. The subject wasn't a comforting one, and rang much too close to home with regards to their own captain, but despite the underlying implications, Ben had had other intentions of telling the story.

After a laden silence, he continued, "Roger never brought her aboard the Jackson on his travels. Probably thought it was too dangerous. A sane choice, perhaps, but the Captain said he'd always privately disagreed. After Roger's death, the ones who could have protected her would have been the crew." He turned to look at Yasopp, raising his brows to underline his point.

Yasopp inhaled sharply, catching on. "Ah."

Ben smirked. "Aa."

"So...ten years then?"

Ben nodded, eyes once again drifting down towards the ship anchored at the docks, the dragon figurehead a looming shadow in the night.

"Ten years."

* * *

AN: Because even if he was only a swabbie, I like to think Shanks knew more about the Pirate King than he lets on. Also, I liked the symbolism. AND, as always (because it's always so long between updates with this story), I hope the chapter was worth the wait. Your continued, glorious feedback has been BEYOND inspiring. I can't believe how supportive you've all been. THANK YOU!

Side note: "disbound" is book terminology for a book which has been removed from its binding. If you're a fellow bibliophile, feel free to enjoy some more blatant symbolism.


	14. now to then, and the pages between

AN: Bet you were all expecting to wait another few months, and then I go and pull this unexpected crap. Unpredictable is the pace of my heart, guys. I live to keep you on your toes~

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or its characters – Eichiiro Oda does. 'Siren's Song', whatever little you see of it in this, is mine, and made for the purpose of this story.

* * *

**Chapter XIV**

The day they left the sun was high in the sky, the cover of endless blue stretching out from the island to the horizon in the far distance. The sea was quiet, gentle waves giving playful pushes against the hull of the ship – the beckoning touch of his Mistress set to take him away.

Makino tried not to think about the fact that she'd been hoping for a storm – to postpone their departure for one more day, or even a few more hours. But the East Blue was not the Grand Line; freak storms didn't occur, especially if you wished for them. And so she'd busied herself with making sure they had everything ready for their voyage; that they were properly stocked with food – and booze – and that Doc had the necessary medical supplies. They weren't just sailing the blues this time – they were heading for the Grand Line, and that meant a lot more preparation. The tasks drew her mind away from the fact that they were leaving, kept her moving, bustling, arranging, _anything_ so she didn't just...stop.

Suzume helped, surprisingly without complaint, but Makino didn't trust her voice to convey her gratitude without letting something else slip, like the grief that sat like a lump beneath her ribs, heavy like a stone, or an anchor dragging her down to the depths. But though the old crone was more than aware of what was going on, she let nothing slip, and didn't push Makino into talking. Instead she settled for muttering under her breath as she helped the younger woman carry supplies down to the docks.

Makino's arms moved without command, and her legs pushed her forward, as though her body knew she hadn't the mind to think about her actions. Maneuvering between the villagers crowding the docks, she felt the din of their eager voices rise like a wave around her – always growing, but never crashing against the shore. Stubbornly, she kept it at bay, and turned her heart away because she just couldn't afford to drown. Not right now. Later, perhaps, she'd allow herself to feel. _But not right now. _

The sound of his laughter cut through the muted noise, clear like the cry of a gull over the roar of the sea, pulling at her heartstrings despite her efforts to keep herself at a distance. She almost faltered in her step, but the hand on her elbow steadied her before she could take a tumble. Suzume said nothing, but gave her a small push towards the docks where the crew was busy preparing the ship for departure.

He caught sight of her through the crowd, and though the smile on his face didn't falter, the look in his eyes told her – _reassured_ her, if there had ever been any doubt in her mind – that he was far from cheerful. A pace away, Luffy huddled, hands pressed down over an oversized straw-hat Makino had seen on many occasions. She felt her heart swell at the sight, and her gaze flickered back to the hat's previous owner.

Catching sight of her, the pirates made a wide berth, nudging some of the villagers out of the way as Makino moved forward, trying to ignore the eyes on her back. Someone called out that they needed to clear the docks so they could get the last crates on board, although as the villagers moved to do just that, the pirates simply drew back, leaving the two of them alone in the shadow of the ship's hull.

Makino said nothing for a moment, wondering how one went about saying goodbye in this way. They'd talked it over, exhausted the subject with 'ten years isn't so long' and 'I'll be here waiting' and 'don't you go off dying on me', so now that they were faced with the actual farewell, Makino had no idea what to say.

She drew a breath, breathing in the salty sea air, and when she let it out, he'd taken a step forward, the two fluid motions gliding into each other like a rehearsed routine. His hand splayed over the crown of her head, fingers tangling in her hair, pressing her to him. She breathed in, and out, reaching up to wind her arms around his midsection. The waves pushed against the docks and a gull cried overhead as they stood in silence, their embrace marking the beginning of their ten-year distance. Like the lengthening thread of a spinning loom it was growing between them already, spanning from the edge of the docks to the furthest reaches of the Grand Line.

It seemed silly, almost. _Ten years. _Like it wouldn't be so long. Like they would come back in a month, as they always had, and she wouldn't even have had time to wait. Silly, like when someone says 'everyone dies eventually', and everyone agrees but no one really _knows_.

She felt him breathe against her, felt the pulse of his heart, heard the rustle of his cloak in the breeze. The arm holding her close was strong, and his back straight, as though he'd never been bedridden in his life.

"Heh," she heard then, a soft exhale against her ear.

"What?" she asked, murmured, because she was loath to break the silence. The silence didn't mention things like 'ten years' and 'coming back'. In the silence, it was just the two of them. No departure, and no decade of waiting.

The hand on her head didn't loosen its grip, and she heard the rumble of his voice from where her ear was pressed against his chest. "Rumour's already out. About the arm. Figured something like that wouldn't stay quiet too long," he sighed, and added, wryly, "Hope the sea king had a satisfying meal, at the very least."

The laughter bubbled up quite despite herself, and she shook her head. "I'm sure it did."

He was silent a moment more, and then, "I don't make a habit of leaving parts of me behind, you know."

"No one ever does," she said. "It...the arm–"

"You'll take good care of it, right?" he asked, cutting her off. "Told the kid to look after the hat, but knowing his penchant for getting into trouble..." he chuckled softly, and she felt the pressure lessen from her head. "But you'll take care of what I left you."

Makino blinked, thoroughly confused. "You're...not talking about the arm...right?" she asked, uncertainly, as she looked up to meet his gaze.

He laughed at that – the kind of laughter she'd come to associate with him: unabashed and free – a perfect reflection of himself. He shook his head, but before she could utter another confused question, he'd reached down to take one of her hands. "Not quite what I was referring to, my dear," he murmured, as he brought it up, placing it against his chest, over his heart. Makino's breath caught in her throat.

He tilted his head, a sombre smile on his face. "I had one arm to spare, but I've only got one of these," he said. "Take care of it, though I don't doubt that you will."

"Captain..."

He grinned, but then his expression turned oddly serious. "I'm not out to find One Piece – I've got everything I need, but that doesn't mean where we're going is any less dangerous."

She said nothing to that, only nodded, and he continued, fingers tightening around the hand he had pressed to his heart. "The crew...knows what to do, if anything happens to me."

Her eyes flew open at that, but before she could voice her protest, he shook his head. "It's possible, and you should know the risks, if anything. But," and now a smirk tugged at his lips. "I'll try my best to stay alive, _and_ dress with the weather." The last was added with good humour; to lighten the mood, no doubt.

Despite his attempt, Makino felt tears pool in her eyes. "You'd better."

His grin turned wry. "That an order?"

She laughed, but it sounded more like a sob, "I didn't know one could order captains around," she retorted, tilting her head as she looked up at him. "Consider it...advice."

That had him throwing his head back, the way he did with so little effort. She didn't know anyone who could laugh like that. Meeting her gaze again, his eyes gleamed. "Whatever you call it, my girl, that sounds like an order," he winked. "Ten years from now, the crew won't know what hit them. Should I be concerned that my position is being challenged?"

She grinned despite herself. "Well, there _are_ perks to being the captain, or so I've heard."

"Indeed?" he hummed, warm fingers tightening around hers, and she felt the gesture all the way to the roots of her heart. The easy banter, falling light and effortless between them, as natural as the continuous ebb and flow of the sea...Makino didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

He lifted her hand then, to brush his lips against her knuckles, the way he had done the day they'd first met. The stubble on his chin was familiar against her skin know, and he tightened his grip on her hand, no doubt feeling how much it was shaking.

"Any requests?" he asked then, his breath warm against her skin.

She blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Requests?"

He grinned. "Well, if we run across some unfortunate merchant ship, and I come across some interesting books...what would you like to have? Or will you be too busy writing your own? Perhaps I'll come across one with your name on it one of these days."

She smiled at that – the warmth of his words thawing the cold grief around her heart. "Perhaps you will," she said. "It would be quite an adventure. Worth reading, I'd say."

"Not out to tarnish my reputation, are you? I know people who would never let me live it down, were my name to be misused in such a manner," he teased.

She quirked a brow, faking innocence. "However would I go about doing that, _Captain_?"

He rolled his eyes at that, but the gesture was fond rather than mocking, and effortless like the banter that so often passed between them. "Of course _you_ would use the title. It'd drive your readers crazy, no doubt. I can see it now: the hot topic of discussion across the blues – _just who is the infamous 'Captain'?_" He grinned.

She laughed at that, her smile stretching wide and true across her face. And, like a well-preserved secret kept out of the gaze of prying eyes; or a wine preserved for a special occasion, she spoke his name, the syllables like a familiar taste on her tongue despite the fact that she very rarely spoke them together. But she had kept it close to her heart for a long time – a treasured thing, for special occasions. Her well-kept secret.

"_Shanks_."

The sun warmed at her back, the light catching in his ridiculous hair, casting shadows over the features of his face. Her eyes caressed the angles like inked lines in a well-loved novel, etching the image into her memory, her heart – the shape of his nose, and the rise of his brow. The soft quirk of his expressive mouth, and the stubble dusting his strong chin. She breathed in, letting the sounds of the docks dwindle to something soft at the back of her mind, and when she rose up on her toes this time he was there to meet her.

There was no trace of awkwardness and no misjudging the distance between them. They covered it in a breath, the movements fluid like the smooth turn of a page, or the swell of a wave under the hull of a ship. They moved, and they met, and she sighed against him, fingers curling around the fabric of his cloak. The hand – the single, strong hand left her fingers to trace the outline of her jaw, to once again tangle in her hair. His mouth pressed against hers, and she reached up, her fingers following the trail of her eyes, committing to memory the feel of him. His chin, his jaw, the arch of his nose and his brow. The scars, embedded deep into his skin. Those she traced lightly, gently – the part of him that was still out of her reach.

He pressed her close, and she followed, hoping to etch herself onto his heart the way the scars on his face did his skin. Leave a mark so vivid, so memorable, that ten years wouldn't even dull the colour. A piece of her to take with him.

The moment was over too soon, and yet, it was time. They parted, and the transition was as smooth as the breath that had brought them together. Rough fingers curled around the dip of her chin, brought her closer – and the stubble brushed her forehead an inhale before his mouth did. _Exhale,_ and his forehead touched hers, pressed against it in quiet resignation–

–and then the noises of the wharf washed over her, and as she drew another breath, he was turning away, shouting orders to the crew-members lingering at the deck. Makino turned her eyes away – drew them from his shape moving away down the docks, and met Lucky's gaze looking down at her from above. She smiled, and he returned it, raising the piece of meat he always kept at hand – a silent salute. The gesture was echoed across the deck, one by one, and Makino felt tears sting her eyes as she lifted a trembling hand to her temple. A crew's good-bye to a fellow member. Her breath came a little harder, and she closed her eyes.

_Inhale, exhale. You're fine. _

"Makino-san."

She opened them, but didn't meet Ben's gaze. Instead she breathed, and made herself stand a little straighter. "Ben."

He said nothing at first, and the calm familiarity of his presence helped put her mind at ease. "Have you finished preparing?" she asked. She didn't look towards the ship, or the horizon in the distance, an endless blue against blue. Stubbornly, she kept her eyes on the waves lapping against the ship, and the barnacles dotting the sturdy planks.

He didn't answer, because she knew the answer already, and because the time for forced pleasantries was over. So instead he countered, "Have you?"

She looked up at him at that, a sombre smile tugging at her lips. "I've said good-bye."

He arched a brow at her, managing to look amused as well as mildly reproachful. "For the time to come," he emphasised. "Are you prepared?"

She realized what he was referring to, and felt her fingers curl into fists at her sides. "Perhaps not as well as I should be," she confessed. This wasn't something she'd discussed with Shanks, at least not past her discomfort at his crew's first arrival in Fuschia. Pirate raids happened – she'd heard the stories. And _this is Fuschia, and nothing ever happens here _wasn't going to fly anymore. Ben had voiced his concern once before, but she had been loath to think about it much. Because the last time they'd had trouble – _the bandit grabbing Luffy by the scruff of his neck, a murderous light in his eyes _– the crew had been there. In the nick of time, perhaps, but _there_ regardless. That would change, now.

"Ten years is a long time," she said then, because she didn't know how else to convey the feeling of hopelessness that clawed at her heart. Preparing meant acknowledging that they would no longer be there to offer their protection, and she knew she needed more time to come to that conclusion.

_More time. You've got** ten years'** worth of time. _

Ben nodded, but said nothing. She lifted her gaze, but he was looking at the ship, brows furrowed in a rare show of wary contemplation. "And you?" she asked, attempting to make her tone light despite the worry clinging to her words. "You don't strike me as pirates who seek out trouble." _And yet. And yet. _

A smirk tugged at his lips, and she didn't doubt that he'd caught her implication. "And yet we always seem to find it," he finished for her. "Or perhaps it finds us," he added dryly. Then he shifted his gaze, meeting hers squarely with his own, and suddenly the perpetual amusement colouring his words was gone, replaced with something else. Something foreign. "Things won't be the same in ten years. Some pawns have yet to come into play, and the tides of the Grand Line are in constant change," he said, before throwing another glance towards the ship. "He's got a bigger role to play than he pretends to have."

She let her gaze fall, uncertain of what he was truly saying, but afraid it was what she feared most. That what she was waiting for would dwindle to a pipe dream; that she would one day look back and realize how silly she had been to _believe_.

She drew a ragged breath._ Ten years was a long time._ "If he doesn't–"

The hand on her shoulder startled her. For all his counsel, Ben was not prone to physical actions to bring his points across. An arched brow often did the trick, and so she found her words fleeing her mind as she looked up at him, eyes tracing the uncharacteristically determined look on his face. "Don't misunderstand me. He needs someone to keep him grounded. There's only so much _we_ can do," he emphasised, and the last was added with a wry smirk, before his look turned serious again. "But you should be prepared." _For whatever happens. _

She nodded. "Ten years is a long time," she echoed. Ben returned the gesture, before his gaze was once again drawn back to the ship.

"You'll take care of him," she said then, and was momentarily surprised at the strength in her own voice.

By the raised brows that met her, she figured she wasn't the only one. Ben smirked. "An order?"

This time, she nodded, a smile tugging at her lips. "An order."

He chuckled. "Careful, or you'll accidentally usurp him."

She hummed innocently, "Oh, nothing quite so drastic."

"And he calls _me_ manipulating," Ben muttered, giving her a familiar smile – the one he so often gave to the man he publicly ridiculed, but would follow to the ends of the earth.

There was a call from the deck, and he looked up at the sky, mapping the position of the sun. Makino knew it for what it was –_ time to leave _– and steeled herself. When he looked back, he reached out a hand – a parting gesture, which she promptly ignored, choosing instead to step forward and envelop him in a hug.

She felt him tense – the action no doubt unexpected, but Makino was too determined to be daunted by awkwardness, and pushed it back with surprising force of will. "You're a good man, Ben. He's lucky to have you," she spoke, trying her very best to convey with words a year of fierce appreciation for his counsel, his wry honesty and adamantine stability. It didn't do him justice – she should have said something earlier, _done_ something earlier – but just as the thought had manifested, she felt his arms tighten around her in turn, the embrace of a dear friend this time – _nakama_, the word leapt out at her – and devoid of the boundaries of simple acquaintances. She felt tears press against her eyes.

"Likewise, Makino."

She pulled back, a smile gracing her face despite the tears clinging to her lashes. "Suzume will miss you," she said then, with a small laugh.

He smirked. "Give her my regards," he said, "As well as my sincerest apologies that I was not around fifty years ago," he added dryly, but there was an odd sort of fondness there, and Makino felt her smile widen.

"Goodbye, Ben."

He bowed his head. "Goobye, Makino. Take care."

And then he was walking up to the ship, leaving her standing on the docks. Villagers had begun to crowd around her again, now that the anchor was being raised, but Makino paid them little mind, instead letting her eyes find refuge in the dark gaze regarding her from the deck.

A small hand reached up to grasp hers, and she tightened her grip around it, breathing deeply as the coarse straw of Luffy's hat brushed against the skin of her arm. For once, the boy said nothing, and merely stood with her, watching as the ship pulled away from the docks, the waves carrying it towards the open sea and away from their little island. The thread of their ten-year long distance spinning on its loom, growing, growing.

She held his gaze until she could no longer make him out from the other shapes aboard the ship, and then she watched the ship until her eyes could no longer distinguish it from the blue expanse of sea and sky. She was aware of the small hand leaving hers, and the muted din of the crowd slowly dispersing around her, but she didn't move, instead keeping her back straight as she kept her gaze stubbornly fixed on the empty horizon. The loom kept spinning.

Ten years was a long time.

And for the first time since she'd gotten out of bed that morning, and the deftness of the fingers she could still feel the imprint of had drawn laughter from her lips, Makino let the tears fall. The fist-sized lump beneath her breast unwound, like an intricate sailor's knot suddenly loosened, and she felt more than heard the sob tear its way from her throat. She was dimly aware of sinking to her knees, like she was only half-aware of the smell of salt on the air as the water lapped softly against the wharf, but like the earlier crowd, she paid it little attention. Instead she allowed herself to openly grieve, to finally mourn the fleeting memories of the day – the lingering touch of his lips against her forehead, the stubble of his chin against her knuckles. Lucky's salute, and the firm grip of Ben's hand on her shoulder. The coarse straw of Luffy's hat against the skin of her arm. The ship, vanishing in the distance.

_Inhale, exhale. _

She wept, curled in on herself like a child, gasping for air, lungs burning, _aching_ in her chest for rest from the sobs that tore holes in the calm countenance she'd kept up all day. Choking, she drew desperate breaths, the salty sea air filling her lungs like water, drowning her on land.

_Inhale, exhale._

_You're **not fine**. _

But she kept breathing, anyway.

* * *

"Girl."

Makino didn't turn her head to acknowledge her companion, and she heard Suzume's raspy sigh, before the shuffling of feet and the soft creak of the dock signalled her approach. She came up to stand beside her, and Makino jumped when something rough was unceremoniously dropped over her shoulders, and she looked down to see the mismatched pattern of an ugly old shawl.

Realization struck, and she looked up to find the old woman glaring down at her, although the look wasn't as harsh as she'd expected. "Suzume-baasan..."

The crone grumbled, "Gettin' cold out."

Makino tugged the shawl closer. "Yeah."

"Kid was worried 'bout you."

She startled – she'd almost forgotten about Luffy. But before the words could leave her tongue, Suzume held a hand up. "I fed the brat and sent 'im to bed. Doesn't take much more than food ta keep that one still." She snorted, and shook her head. "He's Garp's grandson, alright."

Makino looked down at her hands, clenched in her lap. She'd promised herself she wouldn't react this way – that she'd move on with her life, and get back to a semblance of normality once they'd left. But it had been a lot easier convincing herself of that when he'd been there with her, tangible, and not just a memory that she was afraid would dull if she didn't keep it at the forefront of her mind. And trapped in her memories, she'd forgotten about the one person she was supposed to be looking out for. The one she was responsible for – the one she'd _stayed_ _for._

"Oye, wipe that sorry look off yer face," Suzume snapped, effectively drawing her out of her thoughts. "I said the brat was _worried_, not dead. He's a tough one, and he can handle himself so long as someone feeds 'im."

Makino shook her head. "He's seven – he shouldn't have to take care of himself. And I shouldn't be sitting down here–"

"Ya know what he said when I stopped by the bar lookin' fer ya?"

Makino blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected question. "Luffy?"

Suzume smirked. "Said ya were down by the docks, and that you probably wanted to be alone a little bit, because you were sad the captain had left. Not the crew – the _captain_." She snorted. "Kid's more perceptive than I'd thought."

Makino felt tears pool in her eyes, and shook her head. That boy...

Suzume hummed low in her throat. "For all his idiocy, the brat's got good instincts as far as people's hearts are concerned. A good judge of character, that one, if you'll believe it."

Makino felt a small smile tug at her lips. "He trusts easily."

"True. Heard he warmed to the redhead pretty quick."

Makino nodded. "The Captain...Shanks left his hat with him."

Suzume barked a laugh. "That old straw thing? Some gift. Though I get why givin' the brat a knife would be a bad idea." She smirked – she'd heard the tale, like the rest of the village.

Makino's smile widened despite herself. "That hat has seen more adventure than you'd think," she said. _It's seen the deck of the Pirate King's ship. Sailed the Grand Line. _She wondered if Shanks had been aware of all the stories Ben had been telling her behind his back, of his less-than-glamorous life as a deckhand on one of the most famous ships in history. Probably not, but then, Ben had a penchant for breaking rules and getting away with it.

Suzume rumbled, amusement rolling over her words despite the raspy quality to her voice, "So let me guess, we'll be havin' a scrawny, straw-hat wearin' Pirate King on our hands in ten years time?" She shook her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "Shame I'll be dead by then. Would be good with some more exciting news from abroad than tax increases."

Makino's eyes flew open. "Suzume-baasan! What are you sa–you're barely seventy!"

Suzume shrugged. "I'm old. And tired." She looked down at the disbelieving eyes regarding her, and sighed dramatically. _"Fine._ I won't kick it for another ten years. Gotta make sure ya make it and whatnot," she muttered, before she smirked. "And I guess it wouldn't hurt to go with a man like him around." She shot Makino a look. "So he better come back."

Makino felt a small smile tug at her lips. "Ten years."

Suzume snorted. "I bet my shop that he's _late."_

Makino grinned. "Oh, I won't take that bet."

"Ya sure? Gotta have someone ta take over the bar when ya go off adventurin'. Only fitting it should be me."

Makino raised a brow. "Weren't you supposed to hold on for another ten years only?"

Suzume shrugged. "I might be persuaded otherwise, with the right incentive. Like, say, _a bar_."

Makino rolled her eyes. "You're incorrigible."

"Ah, but yer considering it."

Makino shook her head with a small laugh. "Gods help me, but I am." She sighed, and looked back towards the slowly darkening horizon, the soft, subtle oranges stained purple with the gentle approach of night. The air was chilled, unlike the stifling warmth of the night before. The summer breeze bit into her skin, to her bones, colder than it should be, and Makino wondered idly how long she'd been sitting there. She should go in, take a warm bath. Go to bed, and get some rest. Get back up in the morning and go on living.

_Get back to a semblance of normality. _

"I should get back to the bar," she spoke then, although she wasn't entirely sure to whom – the Sea, perhaps, as though she could somehow relay the message. And as though having sensed her intent, Suzume made no effort to reply, but turned on her heel, ready to walk back up to the village.

Makino made no immediate move to follow, but she heard the older woman stop at the steps leading up to the village proper. Eyes still on the horizon, calm in the far distance, Makino breathed. Once, twice.

_Inhale, exhale. You're fine. _

The most recent novel he'd given her was a comfortable weight in the folds of her skirt, and the sensation reminded her of her youth, and the books she'd hidden from her Mistress. She fished it out, cold fingers brushing gently against the soft leather binding. An anchor, rooting her heart in place. She was determined to finish reading it to him one day. They'd barely gotten started, after all.

With a secret smile, Makino turned away from the sea, her place of silent vigil, and made her way towards the woman waiting at the steps behind her. Hands gripping the familiar shape of the novel, a fingertip traced the gilded edges, seeking out her favourite part and the words that she knew by heart; the page dog-eared like a trinket for safekeeping.

_"And though the treacherous tides willed to keep him at bay; the Sea like a woman scorned, vicious in her jealousy..._

"Suzume-baasan, would you like a drink before you go home?"

_...fierce in her endeavour to keep him away..._

"Tch. How many times have I told ya that I used ta have a _problem?_ You out to kill this old woman? Then who'll look out fer ya?"

_...but his will was no less fierce, no less vicious. Steering his vessel, the extension of his own self, he braved the obstacles thrown in his path..._

Makino smiled. "So, a glass of whisky then?"

_...heart alight with a tune so soft, so mellow, beckoning him back to the Realm beyond the corrupted touch of Man: that hidden place in the depth of his soul, echoing with the sound driving him, pulling him forward. Resonating in the roots of his very self, like a thrumming tune... _

"Make it a double, and I might stick around. Mind you, I'm doin' this ta make sure ya don't go off yer rocker tonight. Ah, and _that_ reminds me – have I got some stories ta tell ya about yer dear old Mistress! Drunk herself out of her _mind_ the night he left, the fool girl. 'Course, you've got more sense than _that_, and–" Suzume's voice became a steady thrum in her ears, and Makino exhaled deeply, her smile widening. Fondly, she brushed her fingertips against the engraved leather binding, tracing the sturdy spine, and remembering the part that, like the image of his face beneath the pads of her fingers, had etched its words onto her heart.

_He listened for it, heeded it, and followed it without resistance into the Depths..._

_...the beckoning Siren's song calling him home."_

* * *

AN: Man, I've got so much love in my heart for this pairing, lemme tell ya. The years that have passed since I first started obsessing haven't made my feelings any less fierce, and it makes me so ridiculously _happy_ to see, through the feedback and the favourites and the follows that this story has gotten, that this little corner of the fandom has _grown_ over the past few years. And even more than that, it's a _good_ corner to be in, with crazy supportive people who makes writing a true pleasure. My inspiration has seen it's ups and downs with this story, but your kind words have pulled me back every time. I'll forever endeavour to deserve your praise, lovely folks.


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